The Katz/Wulf team hosted their open house over the columbus day weekend and I had the good fortune to meet many people and present my calling card with my blog emblazoned on it. Several people have been kind enough to notify me of their new readership and I am very grateful to each and every one of you and to the unknown ones who read and leave few traces of their readership, if there are any such animals. I’m not sure if the computer computes all who click on. I guess they register as “hits” without necessarily leaving an email? Would anyone like to educate me on this point?
Then, out in Aliso Viejo, California my cards were again made available. I don’t know if I have any new readership from that event, but if I do, welcome to your, too.
My internet skills often need a consultation or two to allow me to post a blog and for this reason I go to the library to do my printed words. I use computers supplied by the library along with the help the library staff offers. Thus, because my small town has limited library hours and my personal storage area of patient attention for the work is also limited, the time I can devote to the computer world is less than my ambitions demand. We shall see. This in way of explanation for why sometimes blogs don’t come out as often as once or twice a week: my ideal.
For today, a story pointing to a cure for inconsolable grief: a deep down realization that one is not alone. Everyone suffers loss. So one is in kinship with all others.
A woman lost her young child to sickness and couldn’t face that fact/ She walked the neighborhood streets, the outlying suburbs, the rural villages, the city itself carrying the dead offspring in her arms, begging for medicine to cure her beloved. She came to the Buddha Shakyamuni and he explained that if he were to be in possession of a mustard seed he could make a medicine for her but that the mustard seed must come from a family that had not known loss.
The woman was filled with renewed energy and went from door to door explaining her mission to all whom she met. But nobody could help her. All had suffered loss.
In a very compassionate way, Shakyamuni taught her the universality and inevitability of loss and thereby consoled the suffering woman.
So this story can help me and all who have suffered a loss. We must part from those we love. When the body can no longer sustain life it’s time to move on. We grieve and come to terms with our grief. Even in the beginning and middle of the process, even if it has no end, may our compassion for ourselves, the other living and the dead increase and may we grieve in a way that further develops our inner resources, including our happiness with ourselves.