I hardly know you, Mallika, let alone this family and yet I weep spontaneously.
Why do I weep? And what is weeping? What is sorrow? Could it be that I weep for myself, that Love beyond all definition for a moment comes seeping up through my hardness of heart? I have an inneffable 'knowing' that, for all our individual care, as an earthly whole, we fall short of Love's Immortal gift. Did this man suffer and die in vain?

It is not easy to say what I mean, but I agree I should honor this man with you. He touches us for a very deep and redeeming reason.

Dear Mallika,
This is very moving. Prayers go out to the famly for the love and comforted needed for them to feel nourished and connected.

Edmund - here is a warm hug for you! There is something about you ... which makes an embrace feel so - right.

Love,
~ Kate

Dear Mallika,

Very moving. Someone once said that he was lucky because he had found both courage and love through his own love of another. Your story brought this to mind after many a year.

Glad you took the trouble to write it.

Dear Mallika,

you wrote it yourself... someone's story :)
and yes, we are so entangled in these stories, ours and other people's, the collective emotional pain body is so convincing, that somehow you ended up crying for a story about someone you didn't even know.

A woman, a man, two small children and the doom of Death. How many people, especially women, do you think resonate with this story?

And how long are we going to keep crying for a story?

Who are you, Mallika? Are you the body which will one day be dust? Are you the mind with all the contradicting thoughts and emotions flying through it and changing with the weather or with someone's comment? Are you the roles you play? Your relationships? Whatever is changeable (=mortal) in yourself, your children, your husband... is it real?

What is death? Have you really looked at death? Have you met your fears, and understood who is afraid?

What is called "my daughter" in my story has been contemplating leaving her particular form a while ago. The story had taken us to a place where life was so difficult and painful, full of so much torment, that she considered moving on. I had to witness my mind's desperate clinging to her form, its pain and struggle. And even if the whole world would agree with the clinging mind, looking very very sharply, I saw that who was clinging was not who I am, it was the mind clinging to its story. And what it was clinging to was not real in the first place. The not real clinging to unreality. Absurd! We are crying over a hallucination.

I wish we all looked again and extracted ourselves from the story. We don't need to wait until everyone else has done it, just refuse to believe the drama and look again.

This is one of my very favorites, It never fails to bring humility. Millika, so much love is within your own heart. It is truly a sweet reminder.

Love

V

Hello Mallika and Everyone,

Someone's Story...is the story for many people facing terminal illnesses in their families...and when you know someone or hear of someone's struggle and experience it is always humbling.
I mentioned, here, recently about a young boy I know who has recently learned his brain cancer has returned after being in remission for almost two year...he is very young and his family, of course, is devastated by this news, but handling it with so much courage and hopefullness....I don't know..I just feel that this time for families is always a very sacred time, for them..

have a very good day today, ruth

Dear Kate, an embrace would not be out of the question.....under a silvery moon, perhaps!

Oh Aurora, you intrigue me with #4. I think we might just be touching? Can you feel it?

Ed. xx

Deeper than touching you'll find the dissolution of merging, Ed.

We have been lucky to read the wise men from the past
Our mind has been in touch
With meanings of life beyond our own comprehension
Simply and beyond
Beyond, beyond

Our rooted-mind still searching the water of life
On an earth surface of moving-dust
Alimenting itself from low-raw-materials

Death, an element of nourishment
A daily consummation as evening desert
The cleaning agent of this mystical jail

The limited point of you of us
Should not be mixed too quickly with masters nor ignorants
The end-starting-top-low level destination of the mind is a pain for his own comprehension

Without any comprehension
The old-stranger-child still looks at you and smile
Without any comprehension

Into this pit-secret-garden
There is still luxury feelings-imageries of fresh-life
Focus and imagine...

Yes, I wept too in reading Mallika's story of her friend of a friend. The human heart is truly beautiful, regardless of what level one resides, as I am sure love must be appreciated at any level, for Love is the most direct path to Oneness and just maybe the only way. Anyway, I so love Jesus and his love for all, so that's why I think this story embraced my heart with a beautiful kissed it.

Love, Char

It made me cry,as it is so beautiful and sad.Extremly sad and painful....I want to read the blog.

There is so much sadness around us,yet we find a reason to argue,to whine,to complain,say hurtful things to people we love....I truly appreciate my life and am thankful for what I have...

A very important topic that I've seen in recent days.

I think it shows that we all do have a chord that resonates to certain emotions no matter whose those experiences are.

I do not know if the blog is really there or even if the story is true but your word for it. But the situation and context is very moving indeed.

But there are many families living in the very state you mentioned. Knowing death is imminent and trying to cope with is a very painful experience. In fact is this not what we all fear. When we really analyze our reasons we find that death is not what we are afraid of, we are not afraid of the event itself but of the ties we have to sever with this world. But the pain is more to those who survive the death. It a very complex memory they carry throughout their lives - that of pain, guilt, anger, despair and many myriad other emotions.

We can only hope that death comes last to each of us so our family is all gone before us and thus saved of such a turmoil.

I remember a quote that I read somewhere.

"Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying." - Jean Cocteau

It somehow struck me as profound and humbling.

Peace and comfort to his family and friends!

Her courage and strength, poetic thoughts; all gave her husband a peaceful passing.. I hope she knows this, during her most vulnerable times to come.