“After awhile there is no authenticity in dwelling in the sorrow.“
There’s a list of things.
My mothers birthday
The summer solstice
And there are other things.
A day at Twitter
A rehearsal exploring restriction for Pole Speak
Two days straight with him
Compelling soul work with clients
And there are reminders
A silent retreat
Pema Chodron and compassion
A return to desire
And I want to find meaning and connection. I want it all to matter. I want to feel good and live in pleasure. I want to explore emotion and expression. I want to be wild and magical. I want to capture the moon and set my soul on fire. I want safety.
I had a choice. To choose sadness. To play the same soundtrack I do every year. Songs about loss and solace and longing. And after awhile its all self serving. After awhile there is no authenticity in dwelling in the sorrow.
So without the need to be prompted, I did something different this year. I created a playlist called “Hope.”
I miss you James. I miss you so much. I discovered one of your friends online and he emailed me images of you as a child and it breaks my heart.
My imagination makes me think our children would have your hair and your eyes and your smile and your mischievousness. I’d want them to be individual replicas of you. I also spent time with another friend of yours , who in certain lighting, reminded me of you. His voice has similar intonations of you. Sometimes I see you in Lola and sometimes I see you in myself. And now, I even see you in him.
James, I choose hope. I will cry. I will light a candle. I’ll dance a sad song too. But also, I choose hope. In the anniversaries of life and death, in the shifting cycles of the moon & the sun, and in the ever motion of every day, I choose hope. I want to prosper and thrive. I want to radiate and experience joy. I want that for me and I want it for you. I will not bury myself with you. You’d never let me do that anyway. You’d demand excellence and life. You also demanded hope. So today, on this day, that is what I give and that is what I will be.
Hope…for me is choosing to move towards the light. It’s choosing to feel the sorrow and then choosing to heal.
James Franklin Pyles
December 13, 1982 – June 24, 2004