Today while the blossoms
still cling to the vines
I'll taste your strawberries
and drink your sweet wines
A million tomorrows
shall all pass away
'Ere I forget
all the joy that is mine
today
- lullaby my father sings
Jewish Home Lifecare. Listening to stories, bits of biographical information on repeat. Five or more times within a conversation. Where am I? What's your name? Then right back into the meager slideshow. A reflection on her parents. A story about her son. A statement about why people die. A description of her home city. A reflection on her parents. A story about her son. A story about her son.
If I were to someday lose my awareness of what I've said, what I've not yet said. If I were to someday lose most of my memories, to have my mind siphon off the things it decides are superfluous to my sense of self, my sense of narrative, my sense of meaning, of relationship, of connection. If I were to someday lose everything but that upon which I've dwelt, those hubs at the centers of thoughtwebs, those times that I circle back to, replaying, whether recapturing their happiness or seeing how things could have been different.
What would be the moments I would play over and over again to anyone who would listen?
What would I want to communicate? What would be the emotional tenor?
What can I do now to make sure that the dominant tropes are love, gratitude, meaning, joy, a sense of peace, and all of the ideas and landscapes and beliefs and people who give me these feelings? Are these what I want the dominant tropes to be? In any case, how much control do I have over which aspects of my being, my experiences, will demonstrate staying power?
Cleanse before sleep each night. Be passionate. Breathe in, breathe out, and live.
V'shavti b'veit Hashem l'orech yamim
(Ties in with this, written a little over a year ago.)
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