Life in the Slow Lane

That whooshing sound you hear as you travel through this blog entry is life sucking.  My daughter shared on her blog about a dear friend's nine month old granddaughter who drowned last weekend.  The memorial service is tomorrow.

 The past several days have been ones of anguish, anger, grief, and pain, mingled with compassion, gratitude, grace, and perspective borne of tragedy.

 Life doesn't really suck, but not one of us would volunteer for such pain.  Trying to make sense of it all is futile when you are dealing with the "shit happens" category of life.

 This was read at one of the Kennedy's funeral.  It might have been read by Bobby at John's funeral or Ted at Bobby's funeral.  I think the former,[1] but it often comes to mind at times like this:

In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God. ~Aeschylus

 Still waiting for wisdom and knowing that at the top of the list must come forgiveness for a short period of negligence which resulted in a precious life lost.

Well, I did it again. I got another tattoo. I went to a local event called Tats for a Cure ("Save the Boobies"). It was a tattoo expo that had dozens of tattoo artists from all over the state and even as far away as Colorado raising money for research for a cure for cancer, but focusing heavily on breast cancer. Since that is a cause near and dear to my own heart, I decided to go. My mother died of breast cancer which had metasticized to her bones and one of my best friends is a breast cancer survivor, another good friend died of breast cancer, and then there is Savanah, and many of you who have fought your own battles with cancer. When I got the expo, I knew I was going to end up with a tattoo; I just didn't realize how incredible it would be or how meaningful it would end up being. I didn't tell anyone that I was going to do this because I didn't want anyone to talk me out of it or try to get me to change where on my body I was going to get the tattoo. The new tattoo is much more intricate, refined, and wilder than the first one. I collect Dia de Los Muertos figurines. Here's a brief description of what the Day of the Dead celebration means ~

Mexico celebrates a yearly tradition called Day of the Dead during the lastdays of October and the first days of November. Due to the duration of this festivity and the way people get involved it has been called “The Cult of Death.” As in many Latin American countries, Mexico commemorates the Day of the Dead or All Souls’ Day on November 2nd. The legacy of past civilizations is graphically manifested on this occasion through people’s beliefs that death is a transition from one life to another in different levels where communication exists between the living and the dead. This communication takes place once a year throughout the country. Differing from the Roman Catholic imposed ritual to commemorate All Souls’ Day, which is observed in many countries, the custom established by pre-colonial Mexican civilizations become a ceremony where indigenous beliefs blended with Catholic beliefs. Therefore, the Day of the Dead in Mexico is not a mournful commemoration but a happy and colorful celebration where death takes a lively, friendly expression. Ref: Day of the Dead.

Okay, you ready for this? Here goes ~ Yes, I know. I'm nuts, but I do love this tattoo. I'm going back to this same artist who did my Day of the Dead skull, so he can fix my original tattoo, which I know now was not done skillfully. I will post photos of the new work when it's done in about a month. Please notice the ribbon at the Third Eye position on the tattoo. It is a pink/purple ribbon to commemorate those who have struggled with breast cancer or leukemia. My next tattoo (see, I'm hooked! Maybe I should change my name to Lydia) will have a yellow ribbon in it for all the rest of the people who lives have touched mine and who have battled cancer.