Extraordinary

“Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence”

Astrophysicist Carl Sagan

Dear Grandson,

This letter is about me.  I’m struggling everyday with my ancestral, instinctual nature of emotion, which in this case is the battle between fight or flight, the former dominating the latter.  I’m angry.  Very angry at circumstances of which I have no control that have a devastating effect on people I care about deeply, blood relatives and closest friends, the closest of which is you and I.  This letter is not about those who are manipulating the levers of destruction.  It’s about me. 

Checking in with those who’ve known me throughout the passage of time say I haven’t changed and the circumstances that separate us are from complex and deep wounds emanating from those who feel the only way to express their personal pain is through the destruction of others.  Rationally understanding this, however, does not minimize my own heartache of missing you, my grandson, and my own flesh and blood, my son.

But as I said, this letter is about me and my emotional future, as it will someday be about you and your emotional future.  Living the human experience necessitates our common experience dealing with anger and fear – one feeding off the other.  As you mature, you may (and hopefully will) explore what you fear so that it will not propel you into a life of outrage and discontent without credibility nor veracity to the truth that you know and have experienced in your own heart.  It all becomes – as so much of your life will be – a choice between love or fear.

I fear I will never see you again – that makes me angry.

I fear you will not know the unconditional love of a grandparent – that makes me angry.

I fear you will not know the joy of unbridled freedom to just be yourself – that makes me angry.

I fear that the anger of others will suggest you should be angry as well.

I fear the destruction of relationships will ultimately cause some to die of heartbreak – that makes me angry.

But I don’t wish to be angry.  I want to give for the happiness of others.  I want to be generous with my time and talents.  As explained in Braiding Sweetgrass, I want to “use my gifts and dreams for good . . . Use them with honor and set myself about the business of flourishing and making a home.” 

In short, I want to love.

I want to love so others may be open to loving as well.

I want to love so others will know they are seen and valued.

I want to love so others may come to know there is an alternative to anger and discontent.

I want to love so others might laugh, engage, and interact human-to-human.

I want to love as that is the only path to emotional wisdom.

I want to love because it’s my choice of free will and agency to do so.

I want to love because I want my grandson, and my son to know that when given the choice to destroy, I chose to build.  When given the choice to flee, I chose to embrace.  When given the choice to be angry and withhold, I chose to give my heart, knowing full well it could be rejected and handed back on a bitter platter.

Still, this is the person I want to be.

With a broken heart, in the haze of sadness, I choose to love.

“All of the time that we took for granted

Thinking tomorrow’s just another day

Sun on your face with the windows open

I never got the chance to say

I know your wings are getting heavy

You can let go when you’re ready

To fly . . . Fly.

I know we’ll meet between heaven and the sky

I’ll try

I’m gonna try to find the good after goodbye

Butterfly

You come down to visit your favorite flower

Catching the wind in the light of day

You keep sending me bittersweet reminders

Signs

You’re never really far away

You know I will always need you

I feel better when I see you

Till next time

Butterfly.

Till next time

Fly . . .

Butterfly – Song by Lily Meola