Where Are You?

My teacher appeared to me

in the midst of my grief for him.

I was on a bench in a park in the

city. Buses were coughing by and

small shops were opening. And

since my teacher no longer has

hands, he swept a bird in my face

to break up my sadness. And since

he no longer has a mouth, the light

off the windows twenty stories up

drifted through the leaves. I said,

“I miss you.” And I thought I heard

him say, “Do everything while you’re

here.” Then it began to mist, though

the sun was shining. As if the Uni-

verse were crying at what it does to

us in order to keep going. Just then,

a child lost a ball. It bounced my

way. Now my teacher was in the

bounce and I thought I heard

him say, “Enough of this.

Pick up the ball and live.”

A Question to Walk With: Bring three friends together and in conversation, have each of you describe the impact of someone who is now gone and what each gave you.

This excerpt is from my book, The One Life We’re Given: Finding the Wisdom That Waits in Your Heart.

*Photo credit: Markus Spiske