Wednesday, August 20, 2008

It's really not about rhymes

It's really difficult to discuss life-heavy situations without dancing around a paradox. So I will just come right out and tell you my wants before I break them down into what is really needed:

I want my step father's cancer to have a rhyme, so I can predict the future and tell he and my mother that it's going to be resolved. A rhyme to be deciphered. I want the cancer to have a set path, a humility about where it is, a human sensibility, a boundary to provide some structure. I want for him to set up a phalanx of expectation, and for that phalanx to protect him against himself. Or a rhyme to help him just sleep the next six weeks away.

However, this lung cancer isn't about rhymes and the more we look to the pattern the more impossible it becomes to see. We trick our minds to focus on one solution; witty one liners in the form of tubes and chemicals to trick this griffin into letting us slit his throat.

No rhymes, no riddles, it just is. Surrendering to that idea releases everyone from blame, from responsibility, from guilt, and allows us to focus on what really needs to be done. We need to help him survive.


It is your turn now,
you waited, you were patient.
The time has come,
for us to polish you.
We will transform your inner pearl
into a house of fire.
You're a gold mine.
Did you know that,
hidden in the dirt of the earth?
It is your turn now,
to be placed in fire.
Let us cremate your impurities.

Rumi.

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