Rain. Thank you!
Thursday, August 1, 2002 -- 11:15pm
Posted by Bar


It's 9pm Thursday night and a good flooding rain has finally fallen around
here.  Peter and I just spent half-an-hour watching one of the four bear we
have as regular visitors eating from a tree stump about 12 feet from our
house.  She is beautiful and didn't seem to mind us watching her at all.
She squatted there by the stump chomping away at the bird seed and loving
the feel of water on her face.  She kept shaking loads of water off just
like some gigantic doberman but with tons of fur.  When I opened the
screenless window to get a better look at her, the most striking thing I
noticed was her nasty, stinky smell!  The girl needs a bath, and there's no
hope for that until a lot more rain falls around here.  Peter has suggested
that I announce myself when I walk outside these days.  "Better not to
startle a bear", he says, "they won't hurt you, but they might just scare
the shorts off of you if you encounter them when you're not paying
attention".  When Peter told me early in our marriage that he always wanted
to live in places where bear were around, I never understood why until
today.  They are incredible creatures to behold.

As I was heading to bed tonight, Peter handed me another bunch of e-mail
responses from some of you which reminded me yet again of my great good
fortune in "knowing" all of you.  I must thank those of you who have taken
the time to respond, and apologize for my inability to return a message to
most of you.  It's hard to believe that this has been going on for two years
now.  We have three, 3-inch binders filled with your e-mails back to us and
I am very grateful for every single one.  With some encouragement from a
retired publisher, and because so many of you have asked, I have decided to
put all of my e-mails together in book form.  I've begun to organize myself
so that I can re-read it all.  Thankfully, Steve Stiert saved everything
along the way, and Forrest's baby-sitter, Sarah, has put it all together for
me so that I can begin to go through it all as emotional strength allows.
If you have any ideas or thoughts, I welcome them all.  I am hoping that our
experience can be of help to other families going through similar
situations.

A couple of things have come up this week that I wanted to share.  One has
to do with my celestial buddy, Maxine.  You may remember me telling you
about her.  She's the woman who found me desperate outside the hospital an
hour before Forrest's death.  You may also remember that from my point of
view, she is not human.  Well....a friend of ours was telling us about a
friend of hers whose mother died recently.  Around the time of her death, he
was sitting in the family's living room while other relatives were in other
parts of the house, and a black woman suddenly walked in and comforted him.
She acted very much like Maxine had acted with me and said things very
similar to the things that Maxine had said to me.  When this man asked his
relatives who she was, they had no idea and wondered where she could
possibly have come from.  WOW!  When he told our mutual friend about his
experience, she got chills and told him all about Maxine and me.  Could it
be?  Could it BE??  I don't know, but it sounded mighty familiar to me and I
know what I know about Maxine, and that's for sure.......

I had a really satisfying thought the other day as I melted into shavasina
at the end of my yoga class.  Shavasina (and I hope that's spelled right) is
the final posture when a person (me) lies flat on their back and enjoys the
peace that follows a good stretch and lots of oxygen from deep breathing.
It's a wonderful posture and may be the best part about yoga.  Anyway, for
months I've been trying to come up with a good explanation for where you go
when you die and also, some reasonable image for how a soul enters the body
of a person not-yet-born.  There are enough descriptions of near-death
experiences in print that it is possible to come up with a reasonable
picture of what that might look like, but I've been stumped by the beginning
of life part.  My answer (at least for the moment) came during shavasina
last week:  if I imagine my own soul to be a sort of dynamic, amorphous blob
of light and energy, (and I do), is it possible that Forrest's soul came
from that same blob currently named Bar Scott?  Is it possible that all of
us take a little blob of our mother's soul and that that blob is the
beginning of our own soul?  It makes total sense to me.  I mean, the
original blob, way- back-when during the big bang or whatever, was God
presumably.  If we all then take a little piece of that blob from our mom
and then pass it on, then we are in fact made in the image of God; we are in
fact from the original source.  I imagine that every possible personality
trait and every single aspect of human nature which creates an individual,
is imprinted in God's DNA, if you know what I mean, so that with each
splitting off, another wonderful and unique individual is begun.  It all
just makes total sense to me.  Or let me put it this way, the notion that a
soul comes flying in to the fetus from out of nowhere has always been hard
for me to accept.  This other idea I can live with.  It explains a lot to me
and makes me feel closer to God, to Forrest and to my mom.  And for you dads
out there, it doesn't discount you.  You are still part of the equation
because you are given your soul through your mother.  You are a receiver
just as a girl child is.  You just aren't able to carry a child....at least
not in this life time, but that's a whole other subject, isn't it?
Ultimately, though, it means that each of us has truly come from the same
source, and that thought makes me feel really good.  Does anyone know of
other explanations, hypothesis or belief systems that describe how the human
soul enters the human body??  I may be disclosing my ignorance of an
enormous part of what should have been my religious education, but I have no
idea how philosophers and theologians have dealt with this question.  I'd
also love to know how primitive cultures handle it if anyone knows.

There is still lots of great stuff happening for us around Forrest and I am
very grateful for all of it.  Cheryl, Forrest's teacher, is still delivering
a weekly dessert to us made by someone in our community to let us know
they're thinking about us.  She has come every Sunday evening since February
18th with some delicious thing for us to eat.  She calls them purple heart
desserts and often we don't even know the cooks who have created them.  When
I was home to visit my parents earlier this week, my sister told me she had
recently discovered an assignment her son had written at school called "My
Hero" describing Forrest.  She didn't know that he had written it and she
wanted us to have it.  Then on Sunday, I spent 4 hours with a dad at my
church tilling a medium-sized patch of grass for the kids to begin planting
a vegetable garden they dreamed up in honor of Forrest.  And finally, my
brother, Bill, is riding a 200 mile bike ride for cancer research this
weekend and will have Forrest's picture on his jersey.

I tell you all of these things because they mean a lot to me and have made
Forrest's death more than bearable.  I keep seeing my life as a finite
period of time in which I am meant to live as fully as I can possibly
manage.  Sometimes when I look at Forrest's picture, or when I try to bring
him into focus in my mind, I am very confused by his absence and so lost
about how to carry on.  Then, sure enough, some wonderful person will do
something for me that allows me to take a breath and continue to live and
love it all.  Thank you for making that possible.

Sleep well, everybody. Enjoy the cooler air.

Bar

more light reading....
Tuesday, August 13, 2002 -- 10:10pm
Posted by Bar


Our days have been long and difficult recently.  The six month mark was
Friday and we were caught off guard by the anniversary of Forrest's death.
I suppose that his birthday coming up next week has added to our sense of
sadness.  Peter had a very hard time Friday night which had me very worried
about his health and his ability to cope.  He didn't sleep and I didn't
sleep because I didn't know how to help.  Saturday night we talked long and
hard about our future and how to create it.  Lots of junk is coming up -
fears, doubts, anger and confusion.  Thankfully, we are good friends and
even the anger can be dealt with in a calm and careful way.  I am very
grateful for that.  One of the great things about Peter is that I know that
he will listen to me and that he will consider how to change his behavior if
something is upsetting for me.  I am not sure I am as gracious in that way,
but I am trying to learn.

I don't know where the pain comes from really.  I know that sounds silly
because it obviously comes from Forrest's absence, but these awful stings of
pain just come out of nowhere some times.  I can be doing great, feeling
strong and centered and ok with everything and then, BAM, I'm wailing at the
top of my lungs hoping that someone will hear or that this whole nightmare
will end and Forrest will be sitting on my lap again.  It just doesn't seem
possible yet that we will never see him again.  It's purely my own needs
that I want met.  I know that Forrest is fine wherever he is.  I keep
thinking that he is even more than fine because he was such an incredible
presence when he was here.

The other morning I was listening to David Gray who was one of Forrest's
favorite musicians.  I was enjoying the music and pretending to hold Forrest
in my arms as I danced around the living room - just like we used to do.  It
was around 8am and I was very happy about reliving my memories with him.
When I looked over at the white arm chair that Forrest loved to sit in, it
was glowing purple.  It was beautiful and I said 'thank You' out loud for
whomever could hear.  When I walked nearer to investigate, there was simply
no explanation.  The sun was coming in from a window right next to the
chair, but there was no prism in the window and the whole chair was purple.

I wonder why I doubt what I saw?  It was too perfect and true for it to be
anything other than a gift; a presence.  I can't tell you what it was, but
it's another one of those things that I just know in my heart was bigger
than science can explain.  And why purple??  In retrospect I wish I had sat
myself down and let the purple light sit on my lap.  At the time, it did not
occur to me - I was too busy trying to take it all in.

Some of my intensity is coming from outside of myself.  As you know, I have
been wrestling with my spiritual life and the fact that my church commitment
is in conflict with where I choose my spiritual path to take me.  A couple
of things have happened which have deepened my concern:

The first has to do with an e-mail that I got from a young man who lives in
Australia and is living with liver cancer and hepatitis C, both stemming
from a blood transfusion he received at the age of 11.  He wrote to me for
comfort.  I have tried to give it to him, but the details of his distress
have caused me great sadness on his behalf.  It seems that his congregation
has collectively decided that because of his diseases, they will not have
him drink from the cup at Communion with them anymore.

The second has to do with a group of men and women I recently met who live
40 minutes west of Woodstock and who would like very much to start an
Episcopalian congregation in their neighborhood.  I attended one of the
first gatherings and had what I now recognize as a typical reaction to the
service:  I felt a sense of familiarity, but also a sense of considerable
doubt about whether the words we say in our service are true for me.  I
would actually go so far as to say they are not true for me which is what is
at the root of my internal conflict.  On the way home, our driver asked us
how we felt about spending Saturday afternoons driving west to help these
people on a regular basis.  I had to be honest and say that I was not
interested; it just didn't seem right given my doubts and my objections.  I
suggested that the group meet regularly with or without our being there.  I
voiced out loud that I wondered why they didn't simply bless a piece of
Pepperidge Farm bread, and then share in a good glass of something as a way
of celebrating communion together.  Seems to me that that kind of
celebration would be good for the individuals involved and also good for the
church.  I wondered why they needed a minister in order to start a
congregation.  Doesn't seem necessary to me, to be honest, although I
recognize the value of a trained priest.  But should a group of people who
want to start a congregation be held back because a priest that speaks their
truth is not currently available?  They hold themselves back, I think, and
should be encouraged to gather anyway.  Who makes the rules that keep others
from gathering on their own?  I suspect that there are no rules specifically
but that those people are so worried about the ramifications of meeting
without a priest that it doesnt' even occur to them to do it anyway.  For
me, that is a heart-breaker.

I have thought long and hard about what I am trying to say here and why I
need to say it.  I worry that I am out of bounds; that I am upsetting people
who would rather not be upset.  I have asked Peter why he thinks I need to
write all of this down.  He has encouraged me to do so, and has specifically
asked me to tell you one of the things that I said to him over dinner
tonight:  that because of Forrest's life and death, I am insisting on
honesty in every aspect of my life.  That means I need to be honest with
myself.  It means I have to speak what is true for me.  It means that I need
to tell you what is really on my mind and why it's important to me.  I know
that churches, synagogues, mosques and temples are important parts of our
being human.  I know that part of our human history includes coming together
to take part in rituals that involve our search for God and our need to
understand our place in the universe.  I know I need these things and that
most of us do.  But I also know that I need the rituals that I choose to
take part in to be honest and true for me.  I want my church to represent
the greatest kindness we are capable of, not the greatest creator of rules
that an individual must comply with in order to protect itself from
dissolution.  And in the case of the congregation in Australia, I hope that
somehow they change their thinking and create a solution for my friend that
is kinder and which takes into account the fears of all its members.

My friend Steve called while I was struggling with this e-mail and I talked
to him about it over the phone.  He told me about spending time with a woman
today who is very depressed.  He felt as though he could not get a handle on
how to help her.  I reminded him that just listening to her was a great
gift.  I told him that I wished I could change the world and he confessed
that sometimes he has no hope.  But I think we all make choices and that
each choice we make is a statement of our commitment to life lived more
fully, or life lived more cynically.  Even when hope is absent and there
doesn't seem to be any reason to try, we still have to decide whether or not
to hold the door for someone or to smile at someone when they hold the door
for us.  When I share my feelings with you about the church, it is not
because I want churches to go away, it is because I want them to be more
than they are.

It's time for bed.  I have been writing and re-writing this since 5pm and
it's now nearly 10.  When I saved this e-mail to go and have dinner, I
returned to find these last 3 paragraphs were not saved for some reason.
It's a mystery.  I specifically checked to see that I had saved the whole
document before I shut my computer off for dinner.  I guess I was supposed
to re-write it, huh?  I get messages direct and indirect all of the time
that inform me that I need to do things differently.  Presumably my having
dinner, hashing it out with Peter and then being forced to re-write it, has
made my thoughts more clear - not only for you, I hope, but for me as well.

Sleep well everybody.

bar

Lilly
Monday, August 26, 2002 --  10:57am
Posted by Bar


It's 9:30 Monday morning and Lilly is here.  She's eating a gallon of
sunflower seeds and will probably ask me for more when that pile is
finished.  Lilly is one of the four bear that have come to enjoy visiting
us.  She comes daily if not twice a day and we're all getting to be rather
dependent on one another.  Right now, I am sitting about 25 feet from her.
She's chomping away, standing on her back legs with her front legs balanced
on the tree stump where we put the seed out.  She is blacker than night and
her paws are enormous.  She smells even worse today than the last time I
mentioned it - seems she got skunked this morning, probably as she
approached our house.  There are many critters coming here for a snack these
days.  The skunk was probably here first and didn't like Lilly taking over.
She won, I guess.  He's nowhere to be seen, but it sure does smell awful
around here.

******

She finished that pile of seed and she did stop and look at me wanting more.
Usually Peter does all of this and I just watch in awe.  But Peter is at
work and I have come to love Lilly, so I went to the shed, got another
bucket full of seed and returned to the house.  She was still here - hiding
behind a tree like she does with Peter.  I could see her sweet face about 10
feet from the stump just waiting for me.  So, I walked up to the stump and
poured the seed out.  She just watched.  She did not run away, and I was ten
feet from her.  WOW!  What a thrill.  While I had been getting the seed, she
had obviously hoped to find some water in one of the bowls that we have put
out for water, so I asked her if she needed water too.  She said 'yes' in a
way that only a bear can, so I retrieved one of the bowls (which meant going
even closer to her) and took the bowl inside to get water.  Meanwhile, I was
breathing deeply and steadily and thrilled beyond words about what was
happening.  When I came out with the water, she had come closer still so I
told her that I had water and that I would bring it to her.  We've learned
to tell her whatever we are doing so that we don't startle her.  Mostly, we
want her to trust us and not run away.  I told her that I would put the
water down for her.  She watched and I had to take a step or two towards
her.  She did not move away like she normally does, she just watched me.  We
were very close indeed and my heart was pounding and my mouth was smiling
full tilt.  Meeting her this way was as exciting as anything I have ever
done.  As soon as I walked away and sat down here again, she moved towards
the water bowl and slirped the whole thing up.  Now, she's chomping away at
the second bucket of seed.

Some of you - many of you?  - probably think we're nuts to cultivate this
relationship.  I was going to tell you about Lilly last week just before the
news of a little girl's death by a bear was headline news.  Oddly enough,
the day that awful story came out, neither Lilly nor any of her bear buddies
were anywhere to be seen.  It was as though the news was out that they were
bad guys so they all decided to lay low.  I have thought a lot about that
little girl and her family.  I don't know that there is a more terrifying
and awful death and I know some of what her parents are feeling now.  I also
feel great sadness for the bear and about our distance from wild animals in
general.  If anything, that little girl's death inspires me to cultivate
peace with Lilly.  I can see in her eyes and in her constitution that she is
peaceful and that I have no reason to fear her.  My experience is that bear
are scared of me.  They always run away when I encounter them in the woods -
either that or they run up a tree which is a fabulous sight to see.

She's just about done bowl #2 and my guess is that she will wander away
pretty soon.  I feel incredibly lucky to be sitting here in the quiet of the
Catskill Mountains typing away while this very large bear stands right in
front of me.  Steve Stiert and Peter's sister Mary were both here Friday
evening hoping to meet Lilly while Peter and I were out.  They sat in the
bedroom whose windows overlook Lilly's feeding stump for 3 hours - cameras
in hand - but she never came.  Finally Sunday morning we woke Mary at about
7:30 and she had her opportunity to meet Lilly.  She watched her for an hour
just like we do.  It's hard to take your eyes off of her she' so beautiful.

I've just put out bowl #3.  She's hungry today.  It's so dry around here
that all of the animals are suffering.  There's no water and there's no
vegetation.  It feels good to take care of some of them.  Fox, raccoon,
skunks, birds, squirrels and Lilly are constantly out at the stump finding a
bit to eat.

As for other news, as you know we celebrated Forrest's birthday on Friday.
Thank you to everyone who sent cards and messages.  We had a great day.  We
decided in advance to celebrate as much as possible.  We made cupcakes, we
decorated his gravesite, we sang "Happy Birthday" to him at a gathering we
went to Friday night.  On Sunday, we let a Blue's Clues balloon drift into
the sky - a gift for Forrest - and we had a sushi picnic at the graveyard.

Saturday night, Peter, Mary and I started re-arranging our living room
furniture at mid-night.  It was nuts but really good to make the change.  I
couldn't sleep later, though, wondering how Forrest would have felt about
our new living room set-up.  It's so strange.  It made me sad, somehow, and
I just couldn't shake it.  Last night I dreamt about him, like I so often
do.  The dreams are sweet but always have the element of his being dead in
them.  He's alive and we're doing things together, but I also know that he
is dead and that I have a limited amount of time with him.  In the dream,
I'm always aware that he will be dying soon even though he is already dead.
The whole experience is exhausting.  I wake up having gone through yet
another death - but also, another chance to say good-bye and to be with him
for a moment.  It's a very strange feeling.

This morning I am especially grateful for Lilly.  I needed to be distracted.
Mary left yesterday and Peter went to work hours ago.  I needed some company
and when I looked out the window, there she was.  Writing to all of you
fills in the gaps.  Thank you.

I hope you're enjoying this very beautiful weather.  Much love to you all.

Bar