Stuart Rice

Words of Wisdom from One Person’s Journey

Response to Neruda’s “If You Forget Me”

September26

I want you to know one thing:

All love begins with the redolence of destiny,
and ends with malodorous reek of reality.

Ever since Jesus begged from the cross
“My god, my god, why hast thou forsaken me!”
The word “forsake” has never lost its edge.
We may say “sad” and mean a thousand things,
But “forsake” conjures across the millennium
All of those things lost and cast aside:
Possessions, people, places,
All a line on an imaginary map
Drawing us back to our first memory
of loss.

It could be that a handful, a hundred
Human lovers could forsake us,
But one moment without God’s touch,
And we are drowning in endless seas.

On that day when God left you, did
You not cry out, like a mother with a
Lifeless infant in her arms?
Arms raised in agony, and breast bruised
With pain and protestation, did you
Not pull up your roots, and blow out the
Flame of faith that could not endure that
Cold vacuum, with grief in its wake?

But,
if you followed,
if you held on to
That line of grief that plays out before you
Such that the pain of loss becomes sweet,
And seen such as it is:
That every pains draws you deeper into Love’s arm,
And that Compassion had opened its lips to
Drink the poison of your grief.
It is our loss that feeds our love,
And as long as you live this truth is promised you
Without anything expected in return.

And They Lived Happily Ever After

August21

It’s been over a week since we returned from Iceland.  I am now sitting in the Phoenix Sky Harbor airport, a pit stop on the way to Albuquerque for sacred time with my father.  As I flew from Sacramento to Phoenix, I read Doug Lansky’s “The Rough Guide First-Time Europe.”  The wanderlust bug has bitten me full-force, and I now officially ready travel books the way middle aged women read Danielle Steele novels.

What happened in those last few days in Iceland?  Well, the Sunday following Club NASA was spent in complete and total detox.  I don’t think we left our the apartment or changed out of pajamas the whole day.  We were beginning to get ready for the journey home, and I was actively yearning to be back home.

On Monday, we went for a horseback riding tour outside of Reykjavik.  I have not been on a horse in about 20 years, but it sounded like fun.  According to a program on YouTube, Icelandic horses have not been crossed-bred for over a thousand years, and therefore have developed a few unique characteristics.  They seem smaller than most horses, but have beautiful manes and a particular gait between their walk and trot known as a “tot.”  At least that’s what we found out when we began our riding.  Some poor Norwegian man and his daughter were on the tour, and his horse just would not cooperate.  The constant cries of “Nei, Nei!” as the horse stopped to eat grass and everything else in sight was comical.  And then it would gallop to catch up with us.  Thank goodness he was of good humor, because the existential despair of the whole situation would have defeated a less good-natured person.

In the days since returning, I have occasionally missed the energy of Iceland and its beauty.  The people, the alcohol, the landscapes, the alcohol, and the waters all reflect the ancient spirit that dwells in the place.  In combination with Iceland, it has awoken in me my desire to travel frequently and deeply, investigating the heart and spirit of places and how the reflect the space and presence within myself.  Takk fyrir for all those we met, all the things we saw, and the gifts–physical and spiritual–that continue to remain with me. 

Takk fyrir, too, for all the alcohol — I’ll send you the dialysis bill.

Remained

June23

In the darkness of my own thoughts,

Faith sparked into a flame,

And this flame grew into a statement,

“You and I are One.”

And though the darkness stayed,

Inside a corner of my soul

The promise that waits patiently

For my readiness to live in love

Remained.