My Post-Dentist Weekend

I had a rich couple of days and I'm left with many thoughts. I'll list some of them here:

There are wonderful people in the world that I have never met.
Last year Eric and I met a couple that live in our neighborhood through our farm share. We’ve gotten together occasionally for dinner or lunch and traded a few emails over the last year. Saturday they invited us to their holiday party and we met several of their friends. We stayed at the party for almost 8 hours, because we were enjoying the conversation so much. It was such an unexpected joy. (I usually hate parties.)

My Story
I’m researching the Seal Skin story. From what I can tell, it is an Icelandic tale, though it’s widely told in Ireland and Scotland. There were two Icelanders at the party, so I got a quick overview of Icelandic history, clarification about the Vikings, and information on how Ireland and Iceland were connected in the 700s and 800s or so.
Vikings raided Northern Ireland and brought people as “slaves,” “feudal servants” some status similar to this idea. But then when everyone died in the winters, the masters would often marry the women for survival. I find this a very interesting idea to consider when reflecting on the story.

Clutter
It occurred to me this weekend that clutter is a physical manifestation of indecision. I think this might be why it feels so therapeutic to clean out my closets. I’m finally making decisions about what I need in the world.

Darkness
I really struggle with the early sunsets of winter. It fills me with panic when the sun sets at 4:42. I feel like the day is gone and I haven't done what I need to do. All night I walk around feeling like I should probably be in bed and this makes me so concerned. Candles are a comfort in this dark season. Bright lights just make the darkness seem more ominous, because the contrast is so sharp, but if I light candles, it makes me feel like I can relax and enjoy the soft light and not have to fear the oppressive darkness.

Death
Sunday night we went to an art show put on by a friend of a friend who is dying of brain cancer. (The friend who invited me is C. The friend who has brain cancer is A.) A. is an artist who was diagnosed this summer with a brain tumor. They’ve done surgery and radiation, but A. isn’t expected to live for very long—months maybe. She has poured herself into her art since the diagnoses and displayed 39 pieces for sale last night. Her friends, many of whom I’ve met at parties at C.’s house, were all at the opening and the paintings sold so fast we never even got a chance to purchase one. At the party, we saw another mutual friend. J. is best friends with C.’s husband and J. was diagnosed with a brain tumor a couple years ago. He had a successful surgery and chemo treatment, but life expectancy is still a gamble. So in case you aren’t following this, which would be entirely understandable, Eric and I are friends with a couple who each had their best friend diagnosed with a brain tumor in the last couple of years. And on top of that, C.’s mother is dying and she just got back from Europe where she was expecting to attend the funeral. So talking with these friends, surrounded by the art of a woman who is facing death, filled me with such grief.
All night I couldn’t shake the sadness. I keep reflecting on death, trying to make sense of what it means. What if there is no afterlife? What if it’s just the end? Is that a comfort or a source of panic? I go back and forth in how I feel about it. I feel like it’s very possible that we just turn to dust. But I’m attached to my consciousness. And sometimes the brevity of a human life in the face of the universe, the planet, the mountains, the trees, is shocking. Even if we are remembered for a time, eventually we are forgotten. Even the most famous fade away in the face of time. And then there’s the loneliness of watching friends die before you. I can’t bear the thought of the emptiness.
And then last night I had a dream about being on some kind of community service project on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. When I was able to climb up and see the Pacific Ocean, I was overcome with emotion and started crying. I kept saying, “it’s so beautiful. It’s so beautiful. So vast and beautiful.” And I feel cleansed a little after the dream. Like there was something healing about that immense expanse of water.