C’est La Vie!

Sharon Marie  Clare Rachel Ruhland
1941 + 20__
ICXC + NIKA
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About obituaries, specifically mine:
What can be said? Who can say it? Should it be said?

My own feeling is that very little can fairly be said about my life or death by anyone I leave behind on earth. So I conclude that nothing should be said. And certainly no photographs. Actually, that is my wish. Why? Having no immediate family left, it seems best that whatever memory or recollection springs to mind for relatives, friends, or colleagues be left there, in their minds. Dredging up just a substantial outline of my life would be tedious (no, impossible) for anyone but myself. And doing it myself would likely, if read, bore those still busy living. You see, I would have to go into much detail (as is my wont) so that the reader could understand where I came from and how I got to where I went. Everyone’s life journey is largely inscrutable, yes?

So there you have it: I was known and unknown. I was seen and unseen. I was there and then I was gone. And while I want to tell so many things about how and what I learned, where I went and why, which relationships became eternal responsibilities, the task is daunting. No, the task is overwhelming. Besides, it is the stuff of memoirs. That is probably why I see the insufficiency of obituaries, mine or yours, or anyone’s.  (Nevertheless, I do read them, so let yours be written.)

The grass withers, the flower fades. Yet somehow, life is changed, not taken away. Viva Jesu! Hallelujah. Biblical and liturgical meanings revive: Kenosis. Koinonia. Maranatha. Kyrie Eleison. Theotokos. IXOYE. The angels, saints, hermits, mystics and Fathers and Doctors of the Church fill my desert cave. Unfathomable wonders of beauty, truth and goodness take my breath, and fill my silences. Mercy and Compassion are songs that dance. Waters a million times clearer and cleaner  than Tahoe carry me. Consciousness elates me with recognition that everything is a gift. Eucharistia. Thankfulness. Amen.

To be continued? Perhaps. I am feeling fine, so this may serve as preview. On the other hand, if it is a finale, that means I did not finish downsizing, did not finish cleaning up after myself, did have plenty of unfinished business. Oh well. C’est la vie! Forgive me as I will one day, hopefully, Rest In Peace. There is no  ephemeral forwarding address yet! Salut! Hasta la vista, baby! Ciao, Bella!

Philanthropy Vs Branding

I want to be a philanthropist. When I was young, I found a way to give away everything, keeping only a few necessities. It worked well for me. In many ways I actually had more than I needed. I lived in obscurity, with purpose and gratefully. And so I grew. And then I got the chance to give away more, and I did. On the surface, and to the casual observer, my life was not (and never was) what it seemed. I always knew that below the surface things were not as they appeared. But I also knew that some people do not grasp this.

A significant thing I gave away (with no little pain), was the Brand I so strongly identified with. Letting go of it was a brutal process, but I knew that I’d just be relinquishing the superficial elements of an identity that remained. What seemed a reversal of sorts, was nothing of the kind. I had a crystal clear awareness about the upside-down turn my life would take.

Obviously, the philanthropy of people like Warren Buffet and Bill Gates and Mother Teresa has enormous power to rekindle hope and courage in me and in the disheartened who pay attention. And this is crucial for me, seeing that natural disasters, failed governments, thievery, lunacy and corruption do deprive entire populations of sustenance and peace, of life and liberty.

Even when I gave away all I thought I could, there was more to give. And I can see that the heart of a philanthropist is something to emulate. Every day I count my blessings. Every day, in my simple and obscure life, I need to become a philanthropist. How? Without any Brand, but with purpose and meaning, with consciousness and conscience, with  compassion and humanity.

The specifics of my particular story matter little in comparison with the truth of these reflections. Besides, skipping the specifics helps me focus and stay on point.  Yes?