As a musician, artist, contemplative, theologian, and cultural explorer, I find a strange joy in grappling with the larger questions about life and existence. To me, this is the heart and soul of communications — exploring the dynamics of what it means to be human, how we connect and relate with one another, how we cultivate love and growth, and how we perceive ourselves in relation to the wider universe or the Divine. My reflections here are an attempt to capture moments of life — through a canvas of words, songs, images, and reflections — that I hope bring a deeper meaning into focus.
There are certain qualities that define the peak of summer in Maryland. And I revel in them all. Everything is lush and green and alive, and the air often thick with heat and humidity and the smell of fescue and ryegrass. Mornings are filled with the songs of all variety of woodland birds, from the red-breasted robin to the Carolina wren, the caw of black crows and the triplet coo, coo, coo of morning doves. Birds warble, low light pierces through trees, large insects zip by — horse flies, bumble bees, big black cicadas that sometimes smack into me as I stroll down the driveway to fetch the morning paper.
My sister held the phone up to Margaret’s ear and I could hear her labored breathing. “Hi Margaret, it’s me, Cathy,” I said in a soft voice. I paused, searching for the words to say. “I want you to know how much I love you.” My voice cracked as I tried to hold my emotions back. Could she really hear me? “She only has a few more hours left with us,” my sister said, her own voice trying to hold back the sadness and sobbing she wanted to pour forth.