Keeper of secrets
whether pride or protection
death will whisper so
prompt – PRIDE
I had a client who committed suicide. A lovely, gentle woman. I hadn’t seen her in many months when her husband called to tell me. I was shocked, shocked beyond belief.
In Indonesia, funerals are a colorful celebration of life.
I sat in the chapel at her funeral watching and listening to her family describe a wife and mother they thought they knew.
In a single split second it hit me that I was the only person in that chapel who knew what she thought of her family: What
A few hundred surfers gathered for a tribute paddle-out to celebrate the life of American professional surfer Andy Irons.
pleased her; What pained her; Her fear, her anger, her confusion and despair; Secrets she shared with me.
Secrets that were mine to keep forever. It was not a good feeling.
In that split second I learned that none of us ever truly know each other. We have snapshots of moments in time. We have posed snapshots of each other which we view over and over through our own limited lens.
In that split second I realized that I can truly never understand, never know what any other person experiences. My sympathy, my empathy, my understanding come through the filter of my own lens.
To know I DON’T KNOW has liberated me, to a small degree, from the filter of my own ego, from the arrogance of believing I understand, the delusion of thinking I know.
More than 1,000 people gather in New South Wales, Australia to celebrate the life of Jai Morcom
After I die it truly doesn’t matter to me what those who survive me do. But if any of you decide to have a ceremony . . . share my secrets . . . and I would like Archie to deliver my eulogy . . . please.