Coming home
I have previously written about the fact that l fall in love many times every day. This is not a Pollyanna, all is wonderful, falling in love. For me, the falling in love sits alongside the many instances of us humans creatively discounting our shared humanness and, thus, our interdependence on each other and all the rest of the universe. This morning I fell in love with Ross Gay as I listened to the conversation he and Krista Tippett had on the July 25, 2019 podcast of On Being. “Ross Gay is a writer and professor of English at Indiana University Bloomington. His books include the poetry collection Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude, winner of the Kingsley Tufts Poetry Award, land a book of essays, The Book of Delights. He is a board member of the Bloomington Community Orchard and a co-founder of The Tenderness Project. Professor Gay finds much which delights him and, yet, he does not negate or deny the fact that his experience of a man who is often identified as black has, at times, been painful.
Prior to listening to this podcast I been absorbing the fact in the past two days two people I know shared about the death of a loved one. One was a suicide directly related to depression and addiction. I am not sure about the second one but the person who told me is in recovery. The first person called be from the psychiatric ward of a Pennsylvania hospital. He loved one committed suicide after he was admitted to the hospital because he was suicidal. He is overcome with grief and does not feel very connected to himself or to others in the recovery community of which he has been a member for a long time. The second said. “…I am blessed to have another day.” The death of his son’s mother was a reminder to continue to do the work he does best which is loving and helping others. This does not mean he is callous or not sad. He is committed to living the serenity prayer while being there to comfort and be comforted.
Yesterday a man at the gym was sharing the joy of hearing his 18-month-old daughter begin to experiment with saying “da da”.
This morning I was scrubbing the covered porch and inhaling the closeness I feel with all the greens and browns which blanket the area around my porch.
With Gay Ross, the fellow who feel blessed, the father of the young child and the blanket of green which surrounds my house I know I am at home. Falling in love for me or being in love is not knowing where I leave off and the other parts of the universe including other people leave off. Sometimes when making love, as opposed to having sex I cannot tell whose limbs are whose. I feel so connected – so at home – that I know we are one.
Early this morning I was responding to an email letter from a friend who lives in Australia. He shared about a book by Paul Fussell,The Great War and Modern Memory ,which details the intimacy males often share when in combat. Gloria Emerson and many others have also written about the fact that if us men are doing something unquestionably masculine – combat, some professionals sports – we find it much easier to embrace and celebrate intimacy with each other. Men and women in combat who allow themselves to fully experience and connect with sunsets, sun rises, a moment with a friend, a letter from home or some items of food tend to be able to live with the scars of combat.
Celebrating the simple joys of connecting – of coming home – whether in the midst of grief, oppression or other times of despair – allows one to embrace this life journey and to do one ‘s part in creating a more just world – a more connected world in which we know we are at home.
Written July 26, 2019
Jimmy F Pickett
Coachpickett.org
I have previously written about the fact that l fall in love many times every day. This is not a Pollyanna, all is wonderful, falling in love. For me, the falling in love sits alongside the many instances of us humans creatively discounting our shared humanness and, thus, our interdependence on each other and all the rest of the universe. This morning I fell in love with Ross Gay as I listened to the conversation he and Krista Tippett had on the July 25, 2019 podcast of On Being. “Ross Gay is a writer and professor of English at Indiana University Bloomington. His books include the poetry collection Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude, winner of the Kingsley Tufts Poetry Award, land a book of essays, The Book of Delights. He is a board member of the Bloomington Community Orchard and a co-founder of The Tenderness Project. Professor Gay finds much which delights him and, yet, he does not negate or deny the fact that his experience of a man who is often identified as black has, at times, been painful.
Prior to listening to this podcast I been absorbing the fact in the past two days two people I know shared about the death of a loved one. One was a suicide directly related to depression and addiction. I am not sure about the second one but the person who told me is in recovery. The first person called be from the psychiatric ward of a Pennsylvania hospital. He loved one committed suicide after he was admitted to the hospital because he was suicidal. He is overcome with grief and does not feel very connected to himself or to others in the recovery community of which he has been a member for a long time. The second said. “…I am blessed to have another day.” The death of his son’s mother was a reminder to continue to do the work he does best which is loving and helping others. This does not mean he is callous or not sad. He is committed to living the serenity prayer while being there to comfort and be comforted.
Yesterday a man at the gym was sharing the joy of hearing his 18-month-old daughter begin to experiment with saying “da da”.
This morning I was scrubbing the covered porch and inhaling the closeness I feel with all the greens and browns which blanket the area around my porch.
With Gay Ross, the fellow who feel blessed, the father of the young child and the blanket of green which surrounds my house I know I am at home. Falling in love for me or being in love is not knowing where I leave off and the other parts of the universe including other people leave off. Sometimes when making love, as opposed to having sex I cannot tell whose limbs are whose. I feel so connected – so at home – that I know we are one.
Early this morning I was responding to an email letter from a friend who lives in Australia. He shared about a book by Paul Fussell,The Great War and Modern Memory ,which details the intimacy males often share when in combat. Gloria Emerson and many others have also written about the fact that if us men are doing something unquestionably masculine – combat, some professionals sports – we find it much easier to embrace and celebrate intimacy with each other. Men and women in combat who allow themselves to fully experience and connect with sunsets, sun rises, a moment with a friend, a letter from home or some items of food tend to be able to live with the scars of combat.
Celebrating the simple joys of connecting – of coming home – whether in the midst of grief, oppression or other times of despair – allows one to embrace this life journey and to do one ‘s part in creating a more just world – a more connected world in which we know we are at home.
Written July 26, 2019
Jimmy F Pickett
Coachpickett.org
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