Archive for August, 2018
Wednesday yoga students will be able to drive all the way down to Turtle Haven! Workers finish by 5pm. See you soon!
Greetings Summer Yoga Students!
There is a bit of repair happening this week, on the small dirt road’s underground PSE wires. This could mean delays of up to 15 minutes, AT THE MOST, to get back to Turtle Haven. There may be no delay at all; the first two days, there was very smooth sailing, and never a delay of more than just a few minutes. Parking at Turtle Haven may be difficult, with less space than usual. Please be especially car pool oriented, and if at all possible, park just past the mailboxes, on the left where there is the driveway for 6525, our neighbors Jenny and David. Parking will be available on the grass, next to the 6525 driveway. Please park mindfully, disturbing plant life as little as possible, while also leaving space for other cars, and certainly not blocking the driveway. I will leave a car parked there as an example. It will be easy to walk down the road, to get to class. IF FOR SOME REASON, YOU NEED TO DRIVE DOWN, THERE WILL BE SOME ROOM FOR PARKING, BUT LEAVE EXTRA TIME IN CASE YOU COME WHEN THE WORKERS HAVE TO HAVE YOU WAIT. If you have questions or concerns, please feel free to contact me. Hope to see you soon! So sorry for any inconvenience, but the road will be improved with fewer pot holes and more gravel– and we will experience fewer outages! If you imagine a classmate who may not see this announcement, please consider letting him or her know of the situation. Many thanks for your help and understanding.
Late summer brings reflection on seasonal shifts! Here is an announcement for Ravi Ravindra’s October visit to Turtle Haven, and a Palliative Care Institute Benefit as part of his visit. We look forward to sharing this meaningful exploration with Ravi in local community.
Dear Friends,
I am publishing an unusual blog post, as I am in a moment in life I am wanting to share– through the text of an email I share below. While very personal, and initially only sent to those in our immediate family and friends circle, who were for the most part with us for the last days of my Mom Marianne’s life, I imagine others might benefit from this intimate sharing of a life passing, that held so much beauty; in these days since my Mom Marianne has died, I feel the more predictable grief, the sadness of the “never agains” which punctuate my day in different moments. And yet the backdrop of having experienced directly the great poignancy and profundity of the transition from this life to the next as witness to a beloved family member, and knowing it as a gift of the highest order, stands firmly established as the central trunk of this experience of loss. Our culture is in so many transitions, and the embrace of death as a natural and even beautiful experience is a necessary shift. In the spirit of sharing a life story to aid and abet in this transition, I offer this post. And truly, there are many people in my life and work with whom I share the so called personal, who are integral, essential and beloved people woven into the rich fabric of my life with Jillian, life at Turtle Haven Sanctuary, and the larger community. May this post serve whomever reads it.
Dear Friends and Family of Marianne,
Last night at 8pm, Marianne quite peacefully released her body, dying from a life of so many sufferings and so many joys. To her left, stood an altar created by Jillian, with a magnificent bouquet flanking a large sketch of Marianne’s mother Elsi Ascher Schutz, and photographs of her father Fritzmartin Ascher, and her husband Edward and daughter Suzanne. Across from her hung a life-size picture of her son Peter, with a branch of bitter sweet resting above it; Marianne and our family often collected these branches on Long Island, and dear local friends brought this particular branch to Marianne some months ago. John Gerard, an herbalist in a publication from 1597 describes the plant’s use:
The juice is good for those that have fallen from high places, and have been thereby bruised or beaten, for it is thought to dissolve blood congealed or cluttered anywhere in the inthralls and heal the hurt places.
Marianne suffered many trials and tribulations in this lifetime, and yet her capacity to experience profoundly the gift of life pulsated on in the flow of her experience. She loved nothing more than her family, and her dear friends, and each of you receiving this word of her departure, is in this circle. Marianne, with great determination and gentle assistance, could still transfer from wheelchair to car in very recent days, as she continued to relish a drive to see the water, passionately mourned the fading buttercups others may see as weeds, and drank in the presence of friends with the greatest joy. A sip of whiskey, a dark beer, a mimosa, or a bit of chocolate still were relished, despite the many frustrations of a body aged and losing its steam.
The grace of this final passage, replete with so much beautiful synchronicity leaves us feeling that we all travelled together in a blessed state. We are so grateful to all of you for your abiding presence with Marianne, in person and from afar. The Hospice House in Bellingham where Marianne lived from Monday until yesterday could not have been a more peaceful, beautiful environment. Those who worked there consistently demonstrated utmost respect and deep warmth– and even love in their care for Marianne. Various staff members from Brookdale made touching visits to say good-bye. The members of our community locally who came to sit with Marianne as she slipped away gradually, held this space with gentleness, love and profound kindness. Jillian and I are forever grateful.
For those wanting to honor Marianne by making a donation, we offer a website about the place we support with annual fundraisers and an ongoing friendship, called Maher Ashram. Marianne met Sister Lucy, its founder, in her assisted living room two years ago. Marianne felt a true connection with Lucy’s heart and vision. Synchronistically a young man we have known for years who was raised at Maher came to visit us, just at the beginning of Marianne’s hospital stay. Divine Presence in the room was palpable, as Mangesh offered a prayer in his native language, and in English. Marianne smiled and gazed at Mangesh, a beautiful soul raised in the loving embrace of Maher’s inter spiritual community where Jillian, Brel and I have visited in Pune, India.
We will greatly miss our times with Marianne, and her deep appreciation for small pleasures, and human connection above all else. And we trust fully that she is in communion with the Divine Presence, and the Great Mystery of living and dying that is a circle.
At Hospice House, there is a tradition of giving a lavendar bath to the one who has passed, which either staff or family offers. Jillian, Brel and I bathed Marianne with lavendar water, and sprinkled rose petals on her, which preceded the Hospice House Leaving Ceremony, where three bells were rung as Marianne’s body lay at the threshold of leavetaking from this space. The three bells symbolize an honoring of the birth, life and death of the individual who has just passed. We read a a few poems as well, the Mary Oliver selection below being one of them. When Gatisa was here with her family Memorial Day weekend, we did a small ritual honoring Suzanne, Marianne’s oldest child, Gatisa and Sebastian’s Mom, who died in January. Marianne read this poem beautifully and with her full presence to remember and honor Suzy. There was a true poignancy in now reading the poem for Marianne.
We hope you will find your own ways to honor the love we all shared with and for Marianne. She will be cremated this coming week, and Jillian has procured a beautiful white dress and shroud for this time. If you feel inclined to send a prayer on paper to burn in the cremation, please get it to us by Thursday of this coming week.
In love, gratitude, and deep honoring, Elizabeth and Jillian
In Blackwater Woods
by Mary Oliver
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go
Elizabeth Kerwin Yoga 