In the past weeks two special friends have died. One is an icon to several communities. Much has already been written about, filmed, debated and passed on to posterity. I knew him, first, as a writer, when I was young and dealing with my own issues. I was facing a rising spirituality that questioned the safe Catholicism I had been raised in--a Catholicism that held no place for me. His words, his questions, echoed my own. When priests I turned to for answers (at the suggestions of nuns and parents and friends) grinned or shook their heads, or ignored me outright, it was his words that I found some comfort in and his words that led me to the words of others, like us. Those written words helped me to survive.
Years later, I, now grown, now a writer, myself, now equally committed to working with struggling youngsters, met the man. He was like an aging Santa, with sparkling eyes, a full paunch, an engaging smile. I felt his kindness and his warmth, though our connection wasn't as deep as I'd wished. He was nearing the end of his walk on this Earth. He had enough close friends and family. I was welcomed when I was present but I was not part of the inner circle. It was surprisingly enough. On the other hand, his life partner met me with open arms and a heart that was clean and encompassing. We are closer in age and experience, I think. We have many of the same observations of the young; many of the same concerns; have shared many of the same issues. We did become friends. He, too, is a writer, an artist, an activist, a spiritual quester of the most open style. So, when this past week, his husband died, it was not the Great Man that I most grieved for...it was my friend, whom I grieve for, still. I cannot understand such a loss. (I have witnessed many, up close, personally, but I cannot say I've experienced them. So, I stand and bear witness for my friends; helpless to do more; ready to do anything.) I know Malcolm Boyd will be remembered in history. Far finer writers than me will pay him homage--including his spouse, Mark Thompson. I join my respect and affection to all who remember the Great Man. I send my love to Mark.
Yesterday, another friend passed from this planet. She was a teacher with me at the University of California Farm School during a time of great transition. She was a Teacher of all of us on a wider stage: the stage of Life. Sometimes misunderstood, she never bore a grudge to any of her detractors. She was like a Boddhisatva, a living Saint, a Great Soul. Filled with music, art, dance, opera, an appetite for life as it unfolded, she brought genius and compassion to all who took the time to know her. Ever kind and humorous, ever brilliant-- as an engineer who went into teaching for the love of children and science--never looking down on those of us whose brains didn't follow the flashes of light she so easily manifest, she was the best of friends one can imagine. Distance, time, circumstance never interfered with her connections. You knew you were loved by her,unconditionally. Sometimes it was difficult matching that rap sheet. But, we tried, Ann Litvin. We tried.
Her daughter, Shayna, now walks the same path as my buddy Mark. Both having lost significant sources of solace. Both bereft, though both putting on stoic faces for the hundreds of mourners sending off condolences, even this moment. Shayna, too, is my heart friend. Another younger sister, or niece. A friend over time and distance. Her hurt, I can do nothing to alleviate. I know Ann would remind her: this, too, is part of The Dance. This IS life. So, for Shayna, I will bear witness to your pain. I will extend my prayers and love and hope you know, I am here for you. Always.
Today is International Women's History Day. For all of us who are women; who hope to be women; who have loved women; who have benefitted from women; who have come from women; I share this, in our honor and solace:
"May all sentient beings enjoy happiness and the root of happiness.
May we be free from suffering and the root of suffering.
May we not be separated from the great happiness devoid of suffering.
May we dwell in the great equanimity free from passion, aggression and prejudice."
THE FOUR LIMITLESS ONES chant
I know Ann Litvin and Malcolm Boyd would agree.
Years later, I, now grown, now a writer, myself, now equally committed to working with struggling youngsters, met the man. He was like an aging Santa, with sparkling eyes, a full paunch, an engaging smile. I felt his kindness and his warmth, though our connection wasn't as deep as I'd wished. He was nearing the end of his walk on this Earth. He had enough close friends and family. I was welcomed when I was present but I was not part of the inner circle. It was surprisingly enough. On the other hand, his life partner met me with open arms and a heart that was clean and encompassing. We are closer in age and experience, I think. We have many of the same observations of the young; many of the same concerns; have shared many of the same issues. We did become friends. He, too, is a writer, an artist, an activist, a spiritual quester of the most open style. So, when this past week, his husband died, it was not the Great Man that I most grieved for...it was my friend, whom I grieve for, still. I cannot understand such a loss. (I have witnessed many, up close, personally, but I cannot say I've experienced them. So, I stand and bear witness for my friends; helpless to do more; ready to do anything.) I know Malcolm Boyd will be remembered in history. Far finer writers than me will pay him homage--including his spouse, Mark Thompson. I join my respect and affection to all who remember the Great Man. I send my love to Mark.
Yesterday, another friend passed from this planet. She was a teacher with me at the University of California Farm School during a time of great transition. She was a Teacher of all of us on a wider stage: the stage of Life. Sometimes misunderstood, she never bore a grudge to any of her detractors. She was like a Boddhisatva, a living Saint, a Great Soul. Filled with music, art, dance, opera, an appetite for life as it unfolded, she brought genius and compassion to all who took the time to know her. Ever kind and humorous, ever brilliant-- as an engineer who went into teaching for the love of children and science--never looking down on those of us whose brains didn't follow the flashes of light she so easily manifest, she was the best of friends one can imagine. Distance, time, circumstance never interfered with her connections. You knew you were loved by her,unconditionally. Sometimes it was difficult matching that rap sheet. But, we tried, Ann Litvin. We tried.
Her daughter, Shayna, now walks the same path as my buddy Mark. Both having lost significant sources of solace. Both bereft, though both putting on stoic faces for the hundreds of mourners sending off condolences, even this moment. Shayna, too, is my heart friend. Another younger sister, or niece. A friend over time and distance. Her hurt, I can do nothing to alleviate. I know Ann would remind her: this, too, is part of The Dance. This IS life. So, for Shayna, I will bear witness to your pain. I will extend my prayers and love and hope you know, I am here for you. Always.
Today is International Women's History Day. For all of us who are women; who hope to be women; who have loved women; who have benefitted from women; who have come from women; I share this, in our honor and solace:
"May all sentient beings enjoy happiness and the root of happiness.
May we be free from suffering and the root of suffering.
May we not be separated from the great happiness devoid of suffering.
May we dwell in the great equanimity free from passion, aggression and prejudice."
THE FOUR LIMITLESS ONES chant
I know Ann Litvin and Malcolm Boyd would agree.
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