Please forgive my long silence. I had the inspiration to write this blog shortly after my last posting and then life happened.
Amazingly, during that time...just a few days ago actually...we marked the eleventh year since Andrea's death. We spent the day at a place called "Cornerstone" in Sonoma, CA, a 30-minute drive from our home. It is a lovely "artsy" destination with numerous "demonstration" gardens created by world-renowned landscape architects. Most of these gardens are interactive and one of my favorites allows visitors to write their wishes on lengths of silver ribbon and tie them to one of a multitude of short linked chains hanging from the plot's circular meditative screened oasis.
My wish was that Andrea's voice would continue to inspire. Andrea's voice. How can it be that I have lived so long without hearing her speak, without reveling in the delight of her laughter, the other-worldliness of her operatic renditions, the beauty and lilt of her Castilian accent when chatting long distance with her Spanish host family?
As we sat by a peaceful pool of water watching dragonflys dart between pink blooming lily pads, Tom and I recited one of our favorite poems from Andrea's writing. It is the one that always opens our talks and the one found on the last page of our book. It is the poem that attempts to explain why so many of her writings appear to lack joy. One stanza asserts,
Only
the moments of anguish,
Hurt,
confusion, and anger
Are
trapped by my pen,
Moments
of searching,
Desperately
seeking order and happiness in words,
Explanations
and Hypotheses,
Epiphanies.
Throughout her brief 19 years here Andrea seriously searched for "explanations and hypotheses" especially during her struggle with bulimia. I now realize that search was being attempted while stuck in black and white thinking. If things are seen as either good or bad, safe or dangerous, the "epiphanies" we seek become extremely limited. How I wish Andrea could have looked for the grey. How I wish I had known how to look for the grey.
Therapist and eating disorder specialist, Suzanne Ricklin, has created something akin to a flash card approach to prompting dialogue and deep thinking with her clients. When checking out her web site and reading through her sample cards the one titled "Black and White Thinking" jumped out at me. I received permission to quote the final paragraph from this card:
Abandoning a "black and white" mindset takes practice and time. In the final stanza of Andrea's poem she asks that we "Look carefully" and "Judge kindly." Bulimia did not allow her to do that for herself. Her voice was silenced long before she left here. Now, Tom and I are her voice. We, too, must practice looking for the grey in our words, thoughts, and actions. May Andrea's Voice inspire you to do the same.
Blessings until next time,
Doris


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