Bright Star

By Pam Hadder

A few days ago I said goodbye to you, my friend, after your eighteen month battle with cancer.  Although I knew you were very sick, I always thought you would make it –any other outcome seemed implausible.  You were so full of potential, spontaneity, intelligence, creativity and humour – to consider a world without you in it was like imagining a dystopian future for the planet; surely this dark oblivion would never come to pass.

I should mention that my work has been extraordinarily stressful and all-consuming – it is a complex mess that keeps on surprising me with its ability to fester and grow roots.  No matter how deftly I apply myself, the mountain of work just grows; each superficial success revealing new decay beneath the surface, and unimaginable human cruelty and spite.  I sleep with my phone by my head, and I watch in semi-paralytic limbo, as the boundaries between work and personal time become indistinct, like waves washing away words etched on the shoreline. 

Yesterday I came across anther tribute video made in your honour.  This one takes the form of an interview, and between head and shoulders shots, the creator pans closely over your fair skin, dappled with blond freckles, like sunlight piercing through foliage to cast soft-edged patterns.  The effect is so intimate and yet respectful; it captures the essence of your gentleness, youthfulness, and irrepressible sense of whimsy. I feel your warmth – I feel like you are right here in the room with me.

 At the time of these interviews, you had accepted death, and were determined to make the passing from life to afterlife a celebration versus a tragedy.  Watching it, I realized my life was like the reverse of your white flame – although blessed by good health and opportunity, I am transfixed and immobilized in a state of mournful disillusionment.  I often feel like my life is one of those torturous dreams where mundane, infuriating elements loop and overlap in a bizarre blandness that can only be the definition of a living hell, and I long to wake up and know it was just confused conjuring of my resting brain. Then, across the membrane of time and space and impossibility, I hear your advice for life in my ear: “Wear lipstick and expensive perfume.”  And I remember your fashion advice: “Everything goes with everything.” And I hear your raucous laughter, and the pop of a champagne cork midweek and midday.  “I love you,” you offer with a bright smile.  And, oh my God, I feel like that last person to get the memo; I finally get it – the window is crystal clear and the morbidity has lifted. You were trying so hard for so many months to get through to all of us – so many just like me, living the zombie life like we have no expiration date – and I wanted to reel you back, shush the “negativity” and to beg you to choose life.  But I now recognize that it was you who chose life, and it is I who has chosen death – a dire extended death state of my own creation, versus the full-frontal connection of eternal life in motion.

  

Sweet beautiful friend – I love you and miss you in this space and time.  I am so grateful that I witnessed your brilliant comet, blazing across the dark sky.  I needed to be shown what matters, and I needed a kick in the ass so that I might hope to live with authenticity and fire and audacity.  When this body loses its war with time and genetics, I will endeavor to burn fiercely; illuminating the path for those who have become mired in shadows.  Your approach to death and dying has made me realize that I am witnessing the slow unraveling of my joy; the erosion of my life force.  You, on the other hand, were a supernova, burning at maximum strength, uncompromising in your demands, and unwilling to allow a petty detail such as terminal cancer to dilute your brilliance. You lived large – you were brazen and brave, and it scared me much of the time.

Dearest one, you have taught me that there are worse fates than death and dying – it is far more tragic to live in fear, denial and paralysis. All we have to do is shine. In the video you talk about your dream of having another life; one that lasted only a few hours – if I consider my years, I am sure my reflection back upon them would  fill less time than that.  Thank you, bright star, it is time to up my game – “just live a glamorous life...”

So Many Reasons

By Pam Hadder

What is it about certain numbers – why do we find some numbers to be significant, and we allow others to escape our notice?  A 25^th anniversary, the seven-year itch, five-year plans –and what of lucky numbers?  Personally I don’t believe in luck; nor do I support the celebration of life in pre-determined, generic increments.  All we have is this moment, this breath, this heartbeat, and why shouldn't every action and word be considered through that lens of precarious glory?

We are beautifully and remarkably made, we have such amazing potential – we are each comprised of incredible, immortal energy captured for a fleeting moment in human form.  It is a very big deal; exceptional and precious – yet all the while, we are herded, prodded into preoccupations of daily survival, of the mundane, of the expected.  We become disconnected from our glorious nature; our inextricable connection to the divine; the sublime.

This year a beloved, influential person in my life is having a "milestone birthday," which has made me think long and hard about human preoccupation with numbers, the order of things, labeling, organizing, and other trivial categorizations of splendid human potential.   My beautiful friend is having mixed feelings about the pending occasion, and doesn't want any fuss.  I get that, however, I want to celebrate the moment to its fullest extent – not because I am bound to tradition or societal expectations, but because I recognize and wish to acknowledge the importance of her unique spirit’s arrival in this physical realm. On a spring day, a number of years past, she was born into this life and embarked on a journey that eventually intersected with (and super-charged!) my own modest meanderings.  By her unique influence, she has made my life richer, brighter, more beautiful and deeply joyous – she is richly blessed with wisdom, humour, spontaneity, passion for life and charismatic presence. She possesses an intriguing, intoxicating effervescence that cannot be cultivated, but she presents these extraordinary gifts with remarkable humility and selflessness.

And so, dearest FC, for you alone – if numbers must prevail and hold significance – then let it be that with each passing minute, hour, week, month and year, that we recognize another aspect of our earthly self that is to be honoured and cherished.  I know it’s pretty easy to think of thirty or forty reasons that I adore you, my dearest, sweet, kind friend!

Tough Choices

By Pam Hadder
Choice - it is a word brimming with tension, controversy and optimistic anticipation. It makes our heart perk up a bit when we are given a choice, but the initial excitement can be dampened by "what if." What if we choose this over that; what if we make the wrong choice?


Each choice "cocktail" is hounded by potentially nasty chaser words like commitment and regret, often because we tend to weigh and measure our choices using systems owned by other people in our lives - both intimate personal connections and more distant, societal ties. Choice can mean freedom and affirmation of our dearest life values, or it can be muddied by the recriminations and disapproval of others who may not support our selections.


We've all heard those words, "Choose wisely!" And for those of you with families, you may have employed the choice trap with your kids - that is, offering up two or more choices to your little ones, with the clever trick being that all choices align with your parental master plan! So, let's face it, choosing is fraught with pot holes and petunias - an exasperating, joyful tug of war with fear and glory!


But we still all make choices every day - the little ones that seem inconsequential, and the big ones that we may have stewed over for days, months or years before finally succumbing - too often, out of pure exhaustion. So how can be offload the garbage, the guilt, the doubt and simply enjoy the freedom of having options in life?


Choose for YOU - trust your heart; your instinct. At the end of the day, all you have is you. The only action you can truly control is your own. Choose for you, and every choice will impart personal harmony and, over time, wisdom.