eulogy for broken glass

    

November 23rd

My talented friend Lesley made this glass, which got broken in a freak accident in the washing up water last night.

I’m not quite able to throw it in the bin yet. I’m going to let it sit on the window sill till I am ready to let go of it. 

It is a reminder  that life is full of  loss. Sometimes huge and life-changing loss, sometimes tiny.

A reminder also that grief  passes eventually, sometimes in a moment, sometimes after a lifetime.

Meanwhile, I’m still hangin’ on. I loved that glass. 

As Khalil Gibran said

When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

And some other wise person - a Buddhist - said when you are attached to a material object, try to imagine that it is already lost or broken. Then be grateful for the time you still have it in your possession.

Yes, all this profundity sparked by a trifling incident in the kitchen sink.

About the glass itself, just a few last words before I consign its body (and my rantings) to the kitchen tidy-bin: It was one of a family of four, of which only two now survive. They were a gift from Lesley, and for a long time I had them displayed on the top shelf, along with the other look-but-don’t-touch things that were Too Nice To Use.

Then I realised I might die one day with out ever having allowed myself the pleasure of using them. I had the same routine running with a treasured set of fifties dinner plates, all different  retro-ish colours,  which I had  found at Yandina Market. I always stashed them up the back of the cupboard, and  used the ‘every day’ white ones instead. 

So I started using the  good stuff. The green and pink and blue and orange fifties plates, the hand-decorated glasses. Delighting in them.

And I guess inevitably when you use things, when you embrace them and engage with them, there is always a risk of breakage, damage, loss.  

Which must be a metaphor for something. Life, relationships, everything? 

The last drink taken from this glass was a warming sip of a lemon liqueur called Limoncello. I bought it at the local  farmers’ market, from the people who made it. It is an occasional treat and we always drink it from Lesley’s glasses. 

Well I think that was the eulogy. Cheers.

On the subject of getting loose of our attachments and what it means to be fully awake, enlightened ETC, I was listening to Jack Kornfield on my iPod early this morning as I toiled away at the gym and he quoted this:

If you can sit quietly after difficult news

If in financial downturns you remain perfectly calm

If you can see your neighbours travel to fantastic places without a twinge of jealousy

If you can happily eat whatever is on your plate 

If you can love those around you unconditionally

If you can fall asleep after a day of running around without a drink or a pill

If you can always find contentment just where you are

....you are probably a DOG

which made me laugh.