The Contingency Plan

I am, so often, overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed with the beauty, happiness and opportunity surrounding me and by the injustice, hurt and violation.

To me, this seems like real and authentic living. It's holding the joy and pain in both my hands and sitting, walking and dancing with it, with me.

Life lately seems less about extreme seasons of goodness/badness; it's less of a rollercoaster of highs and lows and of more a consistent acknowledgement and appreciation of both. So often I don't understand life but I can't deny its beauty, its chaos.

This week I'm helping Gordon plan the funeral of his father. His loving, giving and funny father. He has terminal cancer and is expected to live another 6-8 weeks. They're taking him home this week to drink champagne and celebrate his wonderful life. I've surrended my own emotions of loss and grief to support my friend.

But hurts me that such a good man is dying so young.

And in the surrealness of his dying, I have my son saying the most wonderful sentences and sharing such simple and heart warming affection. I have a loving and supportive partner that offers me no sexual intimacy, I have him securing a contract that will provide us with amazing financial opportunities and then waking to find our lovely vintage car (which has been kept in mint condition for over 30 years) suffering from a hit and run accident that occured during the night. Red paint scratched into its side, hub caps lost, side mirrors broken off. Dents. And not even a note.

Good, bad, wonderful, terrible. Like little mosaic tiles that make up this big picture of 'life'.

And Hugo is almost 2!

Too bad about the car. That really sucks. What kind of car do you have?

wow, this was beautiful. it is something. the balance of things. the way life is all about negotiating between things.

Junebee: I can't believe he's nearly two! Luc is still bummed about the car. It's a Mercedes.

April: Thankyou. I'm really happy you get the post.