When I was in Japan, I had helped a woman's son through teaching him English. We met two times a week, and had an amazing connection with each other. His mother was amazed, because his teachers taught that he was a problem and not very bright, which was not what I found. Through this experience, he became better at his normal schoolwork as well. His mother cried and cried when I left Japan. I had no idea of how much I had meant to her.
The beginning of the year brought death to my doorstep, but in a positive way. Between moving to Japan and leaving a Buddhist practice that I had been in, I had lost touch with my first husband. We had both married on the rebound, after being friends for years. We only stayed married for 6 months. Just long enough to help him work through some things. Because of some previous events in my life and how I was at the time, I always felt a bit guilty about things that had transpired between us. For years, I had had the feeling to try and find him on the Internet, but I was not able to, though I had been very successful at finding others. I had know that he had had kids with someone whom I had known and that he had married within a year of when we broke up. I did not know that he had been very sick and that they also had broken up.
Meanwhile other events had occurred in my life. I wrote a story about a person who I knew when I was young. It was a difficult situation for me, since I felt that my love was not enough to help the person, and was feeling the limits of being alive. I rewrote the story and fictionalized it bringing it to a positive outcome, and I could feel something change in me. This process was more complicated then what I am saying here but.....
Through a series of unexpected circumstances, I came again in contact with my ex husband. It was like no time went by and though, he was really physically ill, I felt only compassion and the desire to be of help. I felt that this was through the energy that shifted from rewriting the story. We shared some beautiful time together over the phone, and he loved the writing that I sent to him. It turned out that, he had only good memories about me, even right down to the food I used to cook and that he would have never gotten going in his career the way he had, if it were not for me. Last week, he passed away, and my heart was filled with love from the memory of what had occurred.
I have deep gratitude for what occurred and will be creating a writing workshop based on this process. That was the beginning of my year. Sometimes our lives are filled with meaning that passes us by. Writing our story can often bridge that gap.
The beginning of the year brought death to my doorstep, but in a positive way. Between moving to Japan and leaving a Buddhist practice that I had been in, I had lost touch with my first husband. We had both married on the rebound, after being friends for years. We only stayed married for 6 months. Just long enough to help him work through some things. Because of some previous events in my life and how I was at the time, I always felt a bit guilty about things that had transpired between us. For years, I had had the feeling to try and find him on the Internet, but I was not able to, though I had been very successful at finding others. I had know that he had had kids with someone whom I had known and that he had married within a year of when we broke up. I did not know that he had been very sick and that they also had broken up.
Meanwhile other events had occurred in my life. I wrote a story about a person who I knew when I was young. It was a difficult situation for me, since I felt that my love was not enough to help the person, and was feeling the limits of being alive. I rewrote the story and fictionalized it bringing it to a positive outcome, and I could feel something change in me. This process was more complicated then what I am saying here but.....
Through a series of unexpected circumstances, I came again in contact with my ex husband. It was like no time went by and though, he was really physically ill, I felt only compassion and the desire to be of help. I felt that this was through the energy that shifted from rewriting the story. We shared some beautiful time together over the phone, and he loved the writing that I sent to him. It turned out that, he had only good memories about me, even right down to the food I used to cook and that he would have never gotten going in his career the way he had, if it were not for me. Last week, he passed away, and my heart was filled with love from the memory of what had occurred.
I have deep gratitude for what occurred and will be creating a writing workshop based on this process. That was the beginning of my year. Sometimes our lives are filled with meaning that passes us by. Writing our story can often bridge that gap.
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