I just found out five minutes ago that one of my favourite creators, Sir Terry Pratchett, has died.
My first reaction was no no no no no no (continue ad infinitum).
My second reaction was seeing him greeting Death with no surprise at all, unlike many of the characters in his Discworld books, and then beginning a conversation with Death that I expect will continue for eternity and delight both of them. I am sure that Death will no longer experience any boring spots in his existence with Sir Terry at his side.
My third reaction is this. Thank you thank you thank you for sharing your awesome gifts of humour and words and vision with all of us! Your books inspire me, and so do you.
We’ve had a full week of sunny days, and counting. How delicious!
I am a sunshine girl. Warmth and light. Green growing things reaching their way out of the ground. Songbirds and crows and squirrels noising up the backyard. Bees and hummingbirds burying themselves in the rosemary blooms. My studio window open to catch the clatter and hum and sweet air. I am made for this. This is glory. This is me.
I breathe deeper on sunny days. My body relaxes, releases the armour it wore against the cold weather.
I am a sunshine girl, but how do I stay sunshine? A big question for me because these last few weeks all kinds of things are crashing around me. Not onto me, but onto people around me who I know and love and wish only the best for. My heart wants to stay open and loving for them and me. How do I do this when another’s pain and sorrow comes bumping against me? How do I stay sunshine?
A grandmother’s death. A family member with a virulent cancer, another injured and struggling, another with an untreatable aneurysm, yet another with a tumor ‘mostly’ removed. Two long-time friends with cancer. And household disasters, a broken water pipe, a flash flood, and more.
Life is life. I signed up for all of it. I know I can and do create my life. I know that love is always my answer. Yet my heart’s instinct is to protect itself and close against the sorrow and pain now standing beside it.
A closed heart can’t love, can’t feel love, can’t share love, can’t be love. Closing my heart is an old pattern and not the answer. I know this, too.
I remember holding my son when he cried. I can feel his small warm body curled against me, my arms wrapped round him. Rocking him, and rocking and rocking, slowly, gently. Humming to both him and myself whatever song comes into my head. Always it is a love song, and never the same one twice. I feel his distress as though it is mine, and yet my heart remains open wide as the horizon. My love holding his pain.
This is my answer.
Hold my family, my friends, and my life as though each is my beloved child. Because they are. My love for them is no different than my love for my son. This love, my love, shines like the sun, warming all it touches, them and me.