Interview With a Vampire and a Grieving Woman

It is strange to remember how the 1970s turned into the 80s and how the new millennium came to us so quickly. In the 70s I would  reach adulthood and meet my love. In the 80s I would come to know him and love him better than anyone. During those years, I would develop a love of reading that would stay with me always. In the mid 1970s, Anne Rice wrote a book called Interview With The Vampire. Today, vampires and vampire stories are very popular, but in those days they weren't so much. I'm not sure why I loved this book so much, but I suspect it had something to do with immortality. The characters could not die. The only problem with that was that they would never grow old. This sounds like a good thing, and I suppose my love was so great that I wanted this for my man. Still, he was no vampire and one day he did die. This morning I watched the movie which they made from the book. I could really relate with the character Lestat. He was doomed to walk the earth watching the people he cared about die and still living on himself. It made me think about all the people I have loved and lost and still I carry on. I can now see that living forever is not meant to be. It would keep us in a kind of limbo. Being human isn't easy, but being a vampire and it's promise of immortality are out of the question. I'll just be here now and what tomorrow brings I will accept.

Just for Today

I am in that place where I am not crying all the time, but I just can't make up my mind where I want to go. I guess really I could go anywhere or do anything, but I don't seem to have that drive to go forward like I use to. Always when my love was alive, every thought and action was filled with a desire to make life better for "us." Now that the future doesn't really involve "us," I'm really not sure how to proceed and I can't say I'm in a hurry to get there (wherever that may be). I am interested in the Internet now more than ever (I think it even has different names now than the Internet). I can remember watching futuristic films about virtual life that seemed pretty nice. I suspect that "virtual reality" might just be a desire to substitute a virtual dream and life for the pain which none of us wants to feel. I don't want to go that way. Still, it has been so good for me to communicate with people around the world who I could never meet but give me a reason to write down my thoughts and feelings. Thanks for reading this. I can see that we are not alone at all. I'm glad.

Note to Self: Be Here Now on the Journey to Ithica

“As you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that your journey be a long one,
filled with adventure, filled with discovery.
Laestrygonians and Cyclopes,
the angry Poseidon--do not fear them:
you'll never find such things on your way
unless your sight is set high, unless a rare
excitement stirs your spirit and your body.
The Laestrygonians and Cyclopes,
the savage Poseidon--you won't meet them
so long as you do not admit them to your soul,
as long as your soul does not set them before you.
Pray that your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings
when with what pleasure, with what joy,
you enter harbors never seen before.
May you stop at Phoenician stations of trade to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and voluptuous perfumes of every kind--
buy as many voluptuous perfumes as you can.
And may you go to many Egyptian cities
to learn and learn from those who know.
Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
You are destined to arrive there.
But don't hurry your journey at all.
Far better if it takes many years,
and if you are old when you anchor at the island,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will give you wealth.
Ithaca has given you a beautiful journey.
Without her you would never have set out.
She has no more left to give you.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
As wise as you have become, so filled with experience,
you will have understood what Ithacas mean.”
―    Constantine Cavafy (1863-1933)

My journey is not over yet, but Odysseus I am not and do not wish to be.

Every Family Will Know Death

Once there was a woman named Kisagotami, whose first-born son died. She was so stricken with grief that she roamed the streets carrying the dead body and asking for help to bring her son back to life. A kind and wise man took her to the Buddha.

The Buddha told her, "Fetch me a handful of mustard seeds and I will bring your child back to life." Joyfully Kisagotami started off to get them. Then the Buddha added, "But the seeds must come from a family that has not known death."

Kisagotami went from door to door in the whole village asking for the mustard seeds, but everyone said, "Oh, there have been many deaths here", "I lost my father", I lost my sister". She could not find a single household that had not been visited by death. Finally Kisagotami returned to the Buddha and said, "There is death in every family. Everyone dies. Now I understand your teaching."

 

--as retold by  
Instilling Goodness School 
City of Ten Thousand Buddhas 

Free Nelson Mandela

He looks around, around
He sees angels in the architecture
Spinning in infinity
He says, “Amen!” and “Hallelujah!”

               --Paul Simon "You Can Call Me Al"

One of the first songs my love and I shared as a couple was "I Just Called to Say I love You" by Stevie Wonder. For so very long we were kept apart and with this song, each time I heard it, we were able to be together. I did not know this song was banned in South Africa during Apartheid. The absolute favorite song writer of my love was Paul Simon. He bought the Graceland album and listened to it over and over. He even bought the Graceland concert VHS when it became available. I still watch that concert and I can sing every word. My love and I had the chance to hear Archbishop Desmond Tutu speak as Apartheid unraveled. My love was very interested in the injustice of apartheid and was so happy when Mandela was released. Tonight Mr. Mandela's family is faced with the sorrowful task of letting him go. How do you let go of someone you love so much? I suppose it is by grace. I pray for the people who are caring for Mr. Mandela to have the strength to let him go. As much as we want to, we must let all the ones we love go. I so wish that this was not so. Good night sweet prince! You too have been loved.

Chapulling and Making a Deal with God

It's funny to think about the last food I ever fed my love. It was Armenian food of grape leaves and hummus. He just barely ate some of the grape leaves. I must have made a million stuffed grape leaves and for me, it never gets any easier. Today, the people of Turkey are demanding more rights. It was always a secret about the Armenians in Turkey and what terrible things happened to them. I'm no expert on the history of Turkey, but I do know something about the genocide of Turkey's yesteryear. I have known a woman from Communist Russia. She immigrated with her father to Russia from Lebanon for a better life. Eventually, after giving birth to three children and really struggling to give them a better life, she made a deal with God to get her and her family out of Russia. God must have really wanted her because he got her out of Russia and to America! Historically, that is a big deal. She taught me to cook Armenian food and the time we spent together was happily in the kitchen. I rolled my first grape leaf with her. Am I with the Turkish people today as they attempt to protest? "Chapulling" is a Turkish word that has to do with fighting for one's rights. The meaning of the word changed from being an insult to being a rebel cry.  My love went to Turkey many times and loved it. I never went. Most of the people who have died in these protests were young men in their 20s. That's the age of my sister's grandsons. How would one grieve these young men? I cannot imagine their pain. My sister is supposed to visit Turkey this summer. I was so overjoyed when I heard she would be going to Istanbul. I have dreamed of that place all of my adult life. I imagine the Blue Mosque as the most beautiful building in the world. I know a little bit about its history and I can only imagine the centuries of joy and sadness contained in its walls. Now, I am not so happy about her plans. They don't seem so magical or even practical. Taking a holiday in such a place seems unthinkable, and yet I know people do and life goes on. Whichever way life goes on in Turkey, chapulling or not, my heart and prayers are with all the Turkish people (Armenians, presidents and young men in their 20s).

As You Go On

This is a letter I will give to one of my students today. He is so young that he cannot possibly know what the future holds for him.

Dearest One (real name withheld for obvious reasons),

Today as you leave our school and go on to whatever life may have in store for you, I want you to know how much you will be missed. I have been very grateful to have known you, and I want you to know how really wonderful you are. During the many years I have taught, I have known literally thousands of young people. Among those thousands of students, there were a few like you who I remember quite well. I want to tell you about them. When I first began teaching,I had a young student named Juan. He was so kind and generous with his friends. He loved to write and he was good at it. One terrible day, before the end of the school year, Juan found himself in a place where he needed to to leave but he chose to stay. He protected one of his friends from a local gangster. In so doing he was killed. I won't tell you how he died, but it was awful. I cannot forget him to this day. Then there was Tiarra. Everyone loves Tiarra and she is a very popular person. She worked so hard to get passing grades and this was difficult for her. After she graduated from our school, she returned to her own country. As fate would have it, this was the very place where a horrific tidal wave tore through the city and swept many people into the ocean never to return. I never learned if Tiarra was one of those people, but I tell myself she was not. John is another one of my students who went on to study at Berkeley. This is one of the best schools in California. I 'd like to think that I might have gone to that school myself if I had made better choices in high school. John came back to tell me one day that I made a difference in his life and to thank me for being one of his teachers. Let me tell you that this was one of the happiest days of my life. Then there was Hope whose father hurt her so badly that she almost didn't survive, but she did survive and somehow found the strength to go on and succeed. There was Scott whose father actually changed to became a woman. That was very very difficult for Scott to understand let alone accept. In his own way, Scott did accept this and went on with his own life. Another student, Gregorio, was a kid who all by himself found his way through Mexico from Guatemala to North America to get an education. He was a really small guy, but he found a garage to live in at some body's home and got his education. This he did in spite of always wondering if immigration was going to send him back to Guatemala. Those were the days when a young man growing up in Guatemala had no real prospects for the future, and he had seen horrible things done to the people he loved.
I want you to know that I could tell how amazing these people were. I don't know where they are today, but they were very strong. They were somehow a little different than the others and I knew it even then. You are one of these truly wonderful humans. Whatever life may hand you in the years to come, I want you to know that I believe in you. I haven't always had the easiest of lives myself and today isn't really any different. I do know that I never gave up no matter what, and in this refusing to give up, I have had the great honor to know people like you. Please always remember just how special you are. The world is a much better place because you are in it. The only reason in the world I am a teacher is because of people like you. You are one of the those kids that give people like me a reason to be here at all. I will miss you and I wish the best for you.

President Xi, Our President and the Seemingly Blocked Road to Rights

Yesterday, I traveled down a road I have traveled many times. I never really like to go there anymore because it leads to the hospital where my love died. That road brings back so many difficult memories for me. I was on my way to the mall to buy a birthday gift for a little girl who recently fought off cancer. It is with so much joy that we were able to celebrate her birthday. Yesterday, the road was blocked off and people could not get through. Along the sides of the road, in the heat of 100 degree plus temperatures, I could see many people with Chinese flags protesting the nearby visit of China's President. President Xi and our president were meeting at a most beautiful place where my love use to visit. This place, called Sunnylands, has hosted many of the most powerful people in America. My love was always interested in it because the Annenbergs, who built and lived in this huge estate once upon a time, were also the ones largely responsible for the beautiful hospital in which he spent so many of his last days. The estate is very near the hospital. I honked and waved at the protesters. It's not that I am against the president of China. It's just that I am glad in America we can protest in public for whatever we believe and nobody can arrest us because they don't agree. My love was no stranger to Falung Gong which is the religion forbidden in China. When my love was alive, we would sometimes attend Falung Gong performances in Los Angeles and these were very happy times for both of us. In China, this would not be possible. So yesterday, my path was blocked. I understand that things can change. It's nothing short of amazing that the man who represented our country yesterday was President Obama. There was a time, not so long ago, that the road of all African Americans to equality was blocked, too. Someday, I believe that followers of Falung Gong will find their way to equality as well. Perhaps the spirit of my love was there yesterday at Sunnylands. I'm sure he would have been if he could. Maybe he even whispered in the ear of President Xi. One cannot know, but the road is blocked for today.

Trust and the Very Dark Cave of Grief

This experience of grieving is very much like walking through a very dark cave and not knowing where I am or where I am going. I can choose to stop and not enter the cave at all, but that would be to not grieve at all and to pretend that this doesn't hurt. In my life I have made some really good choices. I am proud of those choices. Once, long long ago, I chose to listen to my intuition and speak with a child who seemed to be disappearing before my very eyes. Each day she grew thinner and thinner. I could have chosen to speak with her parents, but instead I spoke only to her. I fed her and somehow I knew she would tell me something important. I hoped that she would explain, but it was dark in that cave of life and I didn't know then where I was or where she really was or where we were going that day I sat her down to talk. Then, as if by magic she told me the unspeakable horrors of her life, and I knew she would have to leave her father's house and so this came to pass. She went on with her life and today I am so grateful that I trusted my instincts and listened to God and to her story. As I continue into my own dark cave of grieving, I know once again that although I am afraid and don't know where I am or where I am going, I must trust again just as I did long ago.