Embrace impermanence

A fragment of poetry that had been haunting me lately. I found it sometime in the past week, in one of my meditation books. It is all about embracing impermanence:

We would rather be ruined than changed,
We would rather die in our dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And let our illusions die.
^{by W. H. Auden}

7 weeks ago I wrote about how my oldest cat was losing weight and looking poorly. I was already grieving her loss. Now she seems to have re-gained her appetite and the weight that she lost, and her coat looks much healthier. I’ve spent lots of time with her lately, and I think that’s good for her and for me too. Pet therapy is a good thing.

African Violet, Allium, Armeria, Aster, Azalea, Bindweed, Bleeding Heart, Carnation, Cherry, Chives, Colchium, Columbine, Cosmos, Crabapple, Cranesbill Geranium, Clematis, Cleome, Clover, Crown Vetch, Dogwood, Fleabane, Foxglove, Fuchia, Geranium, Heather, Hibiscus, Honeysuckle, Hydrangea, Impatiens, Joe-Pye Weed, Larkspur, Lilac, Lythrum, Malva, Maple leaves, Marjoram, Peach, Petunia, Phygosteria, Poppy, Prunus buds, Redbud, Rhododendron, Rose, Scilla, Smartweed, Snapdragon, Spirea, Wax Flower, Wiegelia, Xeranthemum.

This was the list of all the flowers (& weed blossoms & leaves) that I had sometimes found, sometimes grown, and sometimes been given; identified; pressed; stored; and used for making pictures and cards with pink tones. I can see most of them in my mind’s eye, and remember where I collected them, and things that I made with them.

My Sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She’s glad the birds are gone away,
She’s glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

by Robert Frost

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The first stanza of this poem often comes to my mind in early November. It is the anniversary of my mother’s death. Added to the almost sub-conscious memory of that event is the awareness of days shortening, temperatures dropping, and leaves falling. As I read in a meditation text for the past week, “Late October in the Northern Hemisphere brings a sense of the year declining, of mortality and gathering darkness.” And today, attending a workshop about supporting people who are grieving, I realized how much I am still grieving the loss of my husband.
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Re-reading this poem tonight, it seems that Robert Frost is a person who learned how to embrace impermanence.

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
—Robert Frost

She hasn’t been eating well, either. I’ve had 4 other cats so far who, as they got older, each developed kidney failure and started to lose weight. The only thing that vets can do is give them IV fluids and switch them to a lower protein (expensive prescription) diet. This only postpones the inevitable.

I could have written this entry under my goal “feel”...I’m very sad about this. I have loved all my cats very much, and they each in their own way have brought me a lot of pleasure, but seeing them grow old and literally waste away is very painful and sad. But it’s part of being a cat owner, and it’s part of life.

...like sleep. I have worked hard for months to get to a point where I’m sleeping well at night, and getting up early in the morning to walk. Now, after staying up too late last night, and falling asleep early this evening, here I am again wide awake at 4:17am EDT. How can I accept and even embrace this, when I know I’ll be tired and cranky tomorrow?

The flowers at church this morning had been donated in honor of D.K., who died a year ago, and was the same age as I am now. I was sitting behind her mother and daughter this morning. I wish I had known her better—from what I do know she was an amazing person who helped many, many people in Augusta.

I had a bit of counselling a few months ago, at the start of the divorce process, and my counselor cheerfully told me that this was an opportunity to start my life all over again.

I immediately thought to myself, I don’t want to start my life over again. I’m too old. I should have said that to her, but it was towards the end of the hour, and I didn’t say anything. Instead, I had an image come to mind of a group of pirates blind-folding me and making me walk the plank. I guess that symbolizes being thrown off the ship of my old life. I have to either sink or swim.

Intellectually, I can say that this big change in my life is an opportunity for something new. But emotionally, I’m still not there. I’m further along than I was that day in the counselor’s office, but I’m still not there. I’m plunging into the water, and my swimming skills are not too strong.

...3 programs for funerals that I had attended so far this year. Also I found clippings of obituary notices for 3 others. And lately, whenever I look at the obituaries in the newspaper(which I don’t often do), there always seems to be someone listed who is about my age. This past year already seems like such a year of loss for me, but I’m sure there will be more losses to come.