Tomorrow is my birthday. Number 70. That’s a big number, as I contemplate that I am now entering my eighth decade, and must figure out how to integrate higher math into my daily life. Tini took this photo of me, while they were all here to celebrate the occasion last week. After they left, there were days of sunshine, but it’s misty raining again this morning, just like it was on this day. I love it like this–very soft and gentle–which feels like a good prelude to turning the Big SEVEN OH when I awaken tomorrow morning. We’re heading over to Spokane today, to spend a few nights, and have my birthday dinner at one of our favorite restaurants. A road trip is just what I need, to settle into it all.
There is a scene in the recent movie, Jackie, in which she and the priest are walking together, and she pleads with him to somehow make sense of what’s happened in her life, and how to go on living:
The Priest: There comes a time in man’s search for meaning when one realises that there are no answers. And when you come to that horrible, unavoidable realization, you accept it or you kill yourself. Or you simply stop searching… I have lived a blessed life. And yet every night, when I climb into bed, turn off the lights, and stare in to the dark, I wonder… Is this all there is?
Jackie Kennedy: You wonder?
The Priest: Every soul on this planet does. But then, when morning comes, we all wake up and make a pot of coffee.
Perhaps, it’s that simple. David Whyte says it so beautifully…
“…Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.”