Death and other realities

My maternal grandmother passed away early this morning.  She was 94.

This is the second death for The Charming Man and I in one month.

I'm numb with grief. My grandmother gave me my love of history and my love of writing. She was the only one who seemed happy that I chose history as my major and pursued that love to an MA. She was the one who inspired me to study the Ancient World and the Middle East. She also gave me my love of romantic stories.

Everything that swirls around a death - the rituals, the services, the pain, the bizarre family in-jokes, the potential for the eruption of uncomfortable truths - creates a sense of drama and mystery. Life is sharper, fiercer, and more precious than ever.

Someday, I will write a gentle, historical romance story for her.

Thank you, Grandma, for loving me. You never gave up on me.

Moving Slowly.

Last Friday, I visited the Tao of Tea in the Lan Su Chinese Garden. I drank chrysanthemum tea (good for sore throats and allergies), ate steamed dumplings, and then reveled in moon cakes. Moon cakes are a secret obsession of mine.

Outside in the Garden proper, two people were moving through Tai Chi forms. One was a tiny Chinese woman wearing a loose fitting pink martial arts uniform. The second was an older Chinese man who had been playing music for us in the Teahouse.

Tai Chi can be done quickly. But it is usually seen with slow, graceful movements

There is something truly beautiful about moving slowly. I'm always in a rush - afraid to miss anything before death comes for me. This fear drives me to exhaustion - I don't write fast enough, I don't dance enough, I don't give enough to my loved ones. It has ruled me all my life.

The idea of going slowly, of every move being clear and deliberate - is alien to me. I cannot slow down, no matter how much it hurts me.

But the Tai Chi artists outside in the sun- their movements were focused, strong, and deliberate. Somehow, they are getting to where ever it is they are going without fuss or bustle.

What would happen if I slowed down? Just the thought of it fills me with panic.

That panic is a good sign of something I need to try.  Does going slow tie in with my idea of Dare to be Average? Could there be a way to be ambitious without being tense?

I think it's a worthy experiment.