Dear Beloved,
Last weekend we scattered my dad’s ashes into the North Norfolk sea.
Afterwards I dreamt that Kaspa tripped and plunged into a deep narrow hole filled with dark water. They disappeared from view and I braced myself as I waited for them to bob back up to the surface, ready to grab them and pull. The time stretched on. The surface of the water remained unbroken. I woke up.
I am sweating as I write as we have record-breaking heat in the UK (again). Eleven people, mostly teenagers, have died in the sea, rivers and lakes.
The first of the Three Marks of Existence:
All that is conditioned is subject to impermanence.
As I allow these facts, these events, to coalesce around me, what do I see?
I see that I am alive.
I see that it is my duty to take the day ahead of me and fashion it, like precious metal, into something as beautiful as possible.
It doesn’t have to be extraordinary. Our days contain rare moments brilliant enough to dazzle us, but mostly we drink our tea, attend to our emails, keep the dogs as cool as we can.
At any moment, my life as I know it could slip into a deep water-filled hole. It helps me to remember this. Remembering makes it easier for me to receive kindness, to offer kindness, to open myself up to jam-joy.
I took a handful of gritty ashes and sprinkled them into the sea. The beach was almost empty, the sky was blazing blue, the sea was cool and lovely. These remains of my dad’s body had sat for three years in a cupboard in my mum’s house, and now they were free to roam.
I’m thinking of him. I’m thinking of him exploring the oceans. I’m thinking of him being carried down to become a part of sea-creatures, being lifted up to become clouds.
I can’t be sure, but I have the sense that he’s happy.
Can we know the truth of impermanence and be happy too?
Love, Satya <3
A question to carry: How do you flinch away from impermanence and how might it instead become a gift that brings you closer to love?
‘Dear Beloved’ is a free newsletter that will nudge you towards love at the start of every week. It is written by Satya Robyn (she/her) - an IFS therapist and Buddhist minister who lives happily at the feet of the Malvern hills in the UK. She shares a house with her spouse Kaspa (they/them) and their two little dogs, Aiko and Ralph. Her site is here.
Blessings and much love to you and your dad, Satya.
And thank you for sharing these words with such tenderness which I will hold tight as I move into the wave/s of another Monday.
As to your question:
"How do you flinch away from impermanence and how might it instead become a gift that brings you closer to love?"
I might be an apostate (I probably am), but I have moved closer to death in these passing years, and there has been an avowed acceptance that I am a very different man from the one that started out with such ambition some 40 years ago.
For me, God is in everything, and everything is in God (see Ethics by Spinoza) and in that space I have no fear of passing from this world to wherever is next.
Take care, Julian
Beautiful. My husband died and we are having a memorial service with his ashes at church soon. (Father’s Day weekend.)😢
Then, where? We live very near to Lake Michigan and that is one thing we are thinking about. I am going to share this with my children.