Lightly child, lightly

Posted on by Live & Learn

I want to record these first sounds of our trip together, maybe because they feel like the last sounds of something. But at the same time I don’t, because I don’t want to interfere with my recording; I don’t want to turn this particular moment of our lives together into a document for a future archive. If I could only, simply, underline certain things with my mind, I would: this light coming in through the kitchen window, flooding the entire cottage in a golden warmth as I prepare the coffeemaker; this soft breeze blowing in through the open door and brushing past my legs as I turn on the stove; that sound of footsteps—feet little, bare, and warm—as the girl gets out of bed and approaches me from behind, announcing: Mama, I woke up!

~ Valeria Luiselli, Lost Children Archive: A Novel 

Notes

  • Photo: Common Muse (sunlight, shadow, light)
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

40 thoughts on “Lightly child, lightly”

  1. Oh man…. all the feelings and emotions this awakens, in view of yesterday’s events. Such lightness, light, inspirations and above all, the love!
    Dave, we’re with you all – believe me.

  6. Reblogged this on It Is What It Is and commented:
    I didn’t know … Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”
    … thanks for sharing!!

  8. It is hardest I believe when the breadth and the depth of our emotions are so vast. We all know that about you, David, and because you have touched us all simply with your being…we hurt with you. Gather all the lightness you can, the memories and the goodness, and hold it safely in your heart. Take care, my friend.

  9. Aw, DK, the sun-dancing mornings and the Pieta days (/weeks/months,/years..). Mysteries. Utterly baffling mysteries, all.
    (And my most helpless thought yesterday was that at last, he was running with you.) ❤️

  11. Thank you for sharing your loss publicly. “The most beautiful thoughts are always beside the darkest.” Grief has no agenda. Be patient. Feel. Remember the joy, it’s allowed even in pain’s shadow.

    1. Thank you. Your kind words remind me of Hafiz

      I wish I could show you,
      when you are lonely
      or in darkness,
      the astonishing light of
      your own being.

      ~Hafiz, “You are with the Friend Now” in I Heard God Laughing: Poems of Hope and Joy (Penguin, Sep 26, 2006)

  15. I echo Raye, dear David.
    May the golden memories warm your heart – and they will. Give yourself the time to grieve and they will come in, one by one by one.
    Dale xoxo

  17. Oh Dear…your little brother was certainly dear to you, and knew he was loved. I think of your write up about your wonderful boyhood teasing and tormenting your younger brothers along with the hockey and fishing in that beautiful northern land. Sounds like a good life in special ways. Feeling grief and caring…again, so glad you shared with us. Sharing when in deep distress is a sign that your heart chakra is open, and brings us all in. Thank you.

  18. The flickering of light, rhythmically soothes, taking one into reality of a moment…a moment of spontaneous memory, remembered… the sweet, precious words “Mama, I woke ” Mama’s heart is filled with love onward, forever embedded in soul as they’re carried on the breeze looping forever, the feeling of the thought, revisited often…

  20. I really admire what you did. I discovered a while back that some stories are just for me. Or just for me and one other party. Like my old blind girlfriend Chavonne, or Uncle Chuck.
    i just bought a house a few blocks from Uncle Chuck, and Uncle Chuck is in hospice as we speak, and I’ve been checking on him the last two weeks, now that we’re neighbors. I figure that in the next few weeks I’ll be doing a eulogy for Uncle Chuck, I may be doing the whole service, as Uncle Chucks family–the ExMrsBulletholes family– has had me do that kind of thing before. And at last I’ll answer a question my ex asked me a long time ago. Or maybe I wont. Maybe this story is forever for just me and Chuck, and those we can remain somewhat anonymous to.
    https://srevestories.blogspot.com/search?q=chuck

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