Shuteye
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"Don't confront me with my failures, I have not forgotten them."
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Today I went through all the cases I worked last year and closed out everything that had pled or gone through jury trial or been dismissed and I moved those cases down one big drawer and took the bottom cases from two years ago and put everything I didn't have to keep in the big blue locked bin to be shredded. Over two hundred cases last year, more than that the year before. Name after name, crime after crime, and the faces flashed in my mind's eye as I dumped them out, one after the other, in a seemingly endless stream.
More human misery in that four feet of files than you could account for.
My little thimbleful for the great ocean of samsara.
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You forget how much shit you wade through in a year. You don't look at it. You look at each case in particular with great intensity and focus, you know it better than anyone every will, even the people who went through it, cause you've got all of it, all that could be gotten, anyway.
But if you look up and see the big picture...I don't know.
I guess you start to figure it really doesn't matter much.
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The pain is everywhere. My worries are nothing special.
Alleviate what pain you can. Start where you are.
Don't look up.
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Love is the rough engine of it all, this is my bedrock stance. Nor will I quit it.
I will spend myself in the cause of it.
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Namaste.
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7 Comments:
Your posts are a gift.
"Love is the rough engine of it all." Me too on that!
Don't look up, Mr. Dishwasher, keep nose to grindstone, cause it's probably better you than some other dumb bastard... who might not have the sense to take a philosophical look at it when it's time to send the two-years-ago to the shredder...
I went through old photos last week, one was a big box of them from my Grandmothers closet after she died. A whole collection of her memories, her people, from her whole life. Carefully saved. And they meant nothing to me, as they were HERS. I kept some, threw the rest away. Precious and horrifying memories that die when we do, no matter how we document them. Weird.
The image your words bring to mind is that of a pendulum in slow motion - there is such tender gravitas and compassionate intention in what you say here.
'... Alleviate what pain you can. Start where you are.
Don't look up.
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Love is the rough engine of it all, this is my bedrock stance. Nor will I quit it.
I will spend myself in the cause of it... '
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I am in the process of sorting through twenty-five years of life past, wrapping (and unwrapping) the details of my family home in tissue paper and packing it into boxes. My ex-husband and I are blessed still to have a gentle, mindful relationship - perhaps the more so, since agreeing to live apart four and a half years ago. But still, what a multifarious experience this is. We wonder sometimes how we got to here, to this un-planned, unmapped place.
But here we are. It helps to light a candle before we roll up our sleeves and get stuck in. I don't think either of us had anticipated just how much this would ask of us, the unexpected lurches back into the past, the sweetness & ache of it all. And it's all about Here, Now, too - and about life stretching onwards into the unknown future.
We don't look up. And we do. Both. As much as possible (and not always getting it right, mind) our intention is to meet each day as an opportunity for reflection, acknowledgement, remembering, appreciating the parts that make up today's whole. Even the gristly bits. We find ourselves growling at times, laughing at others, protesting, shedding tears, rejoicing. I am exhausted at the end of each day and it ain't over yet!
Thank you for the extra encouragement your words brought, Tearful Dishwasher. You could not have known this would be so, but 'tis true.
I'd like to add a link to your blog from mine - would that be okay?
Hey all-
Thanks for your comments and support and goodness.
And welcome, Claire! Please feel free to link away.
I'll be sending good thoughts your way.
yrs-
tearful
Thank you, Tearful.
Happily linked.
Good thoughts to you, too.
Claire
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