Somehow you’ve got everybody fooled

post-abortion

A long time ago — long, long before I ever entered the Crucible, never mind getting Beyond it — I had an abortion.

In fact, I had two of them.

Now, before you leap to any conclusions here … I wasn’t raped (at least, not then). My life wasn’t in danger. I don’t actually know whether the fetus was in any danger or not. I wasn’t particularly young and I wasn’t even unmarried at the time (for the record, I have never been impregnated by a man I wasn’t married to and I’ve only been married once).

I had those abortions very simply because I found myself pregnant with a baby I wasn’t ready for yet.

It was not in the least bit difficult a decision for me to make. I didn’t agonize over it at all. In fact, I didn’t lose an instant of sleep over it. I don’t ordinarily talk about them much because I’m not into being deliberately offensive and besides, it’s really not anybody’s business. On the other hand, I’m not going to pretend, for the sake of some pro-lifer’s sensibilities, that those abortions were hard for me to choose. They weren’t.
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The long and lonely night has just begun

good-life-toon

I’m going to die one of these days.

I had successfully ignored that fact for a large chunk of my life. Then two things happened that made it impossible for me to ignore it anymore.

First, a little less than thirty years ago, I started having babies. Once that happened, I realized that I wasn’t allowed to die until my children don’t need me anymore. Now, of course, my children and I might disagree as to what “when they don’t need me anymore” actually means but that was my thought. Now, this year, my youngest will turn 18 — and I think we’ve hit that point. I think they could survive without me now.

So, according to that lone criteria, I can die now.

The other thing that happened, about 20 years ago, was that my own mother died. Once your parent dies, mortality kind of kicks you in the face … or it had that effect on me, anyway. My sense that I was safe because my parents stood between me and the Grim Reaper has no basis in reality, of course. Plenty of people outlive their children, for a variety of reasons. I didn’t even know that irrational idea was there until my mom died. But, however it was, her death made me stop and think about the fact that one of these days I, too, was going to shuffle off this mortal coil.

I thought about it … and then I forgot about it. After all, I was only 35.

Fast forward to now … and I find myself thinking about my mortality a bit more often these days. Not in any kind of morbid way but I’m thinking that, at this point, I’m probably closer to my death than I am to my birth. I don’t feel like I’m running out of time — I’ve still got quite a bit of kick left in me, I think — but I do feel, as I put it to Gina, that I am approaching the sunset of my life. And I have some thoughts about that.
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Even in death

samhain

Blessed be the ancestors,
the ones whom life has fled.
Tonight we merry meet again
our own beloved dead.
The wheel of the year turns on,
a new year is in our sights.
The maiden has become the crone.
We celebrate this night.

Happy Samhain, all!

Blessed be!

Joyful music leads us sunward

Possibly you’ve already seen this particular ode to joy. This particular video was uploaded to YouTube back in the summer of 2012 but it’s a new one for me.

I couldn’t tell you why watching this video made me weep, except that it is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I guess its just that there are certain kinds of human sharing that touch profound places within me and it is fitting that this joyous song should be the centerpiece of such a joyous public moment.

There have been some pretty ugly public moments all over the news in recent weeks.

These few moments, captured and shared, remind me (us?) that we humans have a wondrous capacity for sharing beauty and wonder and glee.

… and then, too, there is music.

Happy Friday, folks!