Anker's Away

Byrd is the Word and the Word: Part 3

I just thought Byrd would always be there. I didn't know that until she was gone, but it's what's been constantly on my mind since she died.

I would see Byrd once a month. At the Gathering. But it wasn't just when I would see her, it was the fact that, without thinking about it, I knew that she would always be there to herd our little gathering throughout the month. An email or two, just asking me and Jean if we had a theme, if we were going to send out reminders. That sort of thing. And in the depths of my life I knew that she would do that, tirelessly, without judgement about my laziness, just a gentle nip at the heels. I knew she would come up with interesting things to talk about, I knew she would reign my tendency to go off the deep end of exploration and herd us back to buddhism. I knew she would stimulate conversation, I knew she would infuse any activity we did with intellect and joy. I knew that she was going to be my good friend for life.

And she was. I just thought that life would be alot longer than it was. I felt hurt and abandoned when she decided to move on. I felt scared that the Gathering would scatter without her, and that I would be too lazy to do anything about it.

I'm not mad at her anymore, though.

I guess, this would be the point at which I should make a determination. The point at which I should say that having gone through all of this I am now ready to stand up on my own, overcome my fear and my laziness, arouse absolute conviction that I will reply to her spirit by taking on myself that which I relied on her for.

I kept waiting for that determination to coalesce. For all the mixed up feelings I've been dealing with about her to synthesize into a great and powerful wisdom. A wisdom with the power to make me into someone new, a wisdom with the power to impel me toward a future of which she'd be proud, over which she'd smile, a sense of mission she could know I would never falter from.

It hasn't happened yet. It probably never will. I want to ingest her spirit and make it my own, but I am starting to realize that I am still me. I am not Byrd.

Word.

The Gathering of Friends is my ground of being. Knowing that we will meet every month (or so) validates me. It's kind of pathetic but true. Organized boddhisattva activity which can be quantified by the fact that real people gather together with me to practice buddhism has become so ingrained in my life that without it I would feel useless. If I had done nothing else all month that even resembled boddhisattva activity just seeing Byrd's happy face at my house, hearing Byrd thank me for another "wonderful gathering" made me feel like I was living a worthwhile life. When she thanked me I would always feel surprise. I would always want to ask her if she was sincere or just trying to make me feel good. And I would look at her face, see the childlike happiness there, and realize that she spoke for us all. She experienced the gathering as a great refuge and made me feel it too.

I'm not mad at her anymore for leaving. But there's a big hole where she used to be. I can't fill that hole with a determination, I can't turn it into a mission. It's a hole. That emptiness was felt throughout the world because that's how far her presence reached. The vacuum she left drew old friends we hadn't seen for awhile to her memorial last month. It drew new friends that we had never met before. Just as her presence did in life.

Somehow it seems that the empiness she left behind is potent. As potent as her presence in life. My instinct is to try to fill that emptiness but the depth and power of this hole defies my ability to do so. It remains and is always with me.

I keep thinking about where Byrd is now. I keep thinking about that hole. And I wonder if maybe, just maybe, the emptiness, the hole is Byrd. The essence of Byrd's life. Byrd as dharma gate, Byrd as a force of nature. Like the eye of a storm or the gravitational pull of blackhole. Like the buddha who uses her supernatural powers to draw all beings toward her, without discrimination and opens the way for all beings to attain elightnement. Isn't an opening a hole? Isn't a gate a hole?

The hole won't go away. At least not anytime soon. Seeing that this is how things are, I am trying to embrace it as an opening and hope that the emptines that is Byrd will continue to draw good friends, old and new toward us and that the hole becomes a gate leading us all to become ever more adventurous, ever more bright and ever more cool.

Thank you Byrd for everything. I'm not going to write about you anymore. But let this be know: That which is not seen or heard in what I do and write is always there.

Word.

Posted by bill at September 13, 2008 10:15 PM