Another birthday

2 minute read

Morning. I am here, sitting outside meditating, eyes closed, feeling the sun on my face, rising. Imagining, for a few minutes, that it’s him shining on me, in me. 

It’s your birthday today, sweet son of mine.

another blooming season 

March to May, is the season of his birth and death, when my sadness thickens and blooms—of course, at the most beautiful time of year, spring. Which, to my eyes, makes no sense. 

But I’m well-versed in the rewriting process. I’ve grown used to the idea that time is stretching way, way, out of proportion. That I’m growing older, and more accustomed to sadness. 

I did feel that seasonal foreboding but tried to ignore it. But this morning, while sipping my coffee, I recognized it, sat with it, slumped into it, the gloom and inertia that comes this time of year. Which explains why I’ve been so listless lately. 

To be honest (with myself), I saw it coming: March 2, his birthday.  

Sam, you’d be twenty-seven today!

sitting, breathing, listening…

For eighteen years now, I’ve been doing this: sitting, meditating, practicing the art of letting go. I’ve learned to not waste what little energy I have holding on, wishing… 

This blooming season is here, again. I am here, again, with my thick beginner’s mind, sitting in this big vat of silence. My breathing is slow, and relaxed. I’m a statue, staring, listening. I feel calm, I’m at peace, or maybe I’m just tired? 

Fatigue and this peaceful state of mind, I’ve realized, look exactly alike, identical twins. Most days, I can’t tell them apart. And I’m trying to be at peace with that. 

For now, I’ll call this motionless state of mind Peace. And then, in a little while, I’ll push myself up and pour Fatigue another cup of coffee. And maybe later, I’ll summon the energy to go for a walk, and feel the sun on my face, and imagine, for a few minutes, that it’s him shining on me, in me.

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