Kitchen Canisters of Grief - Why is the salt for wounds in its own?

People have called me unusual for a good part of my life. I'm an activist and I've been involved in a lot of causes. One day soon I hope to tell you about that in the hope you'll have a better grasp of who I am and make it easier for us to help one another. I notice things, and I listen to people. I can't tell you how much I've learned from people in my grief. Think of a giant beautiful oak tree with branches spreading out everywhere and thousands of leaves changing colors with no two of them the same. That's a lot of compassion someone with a big heart chooses to think about, because they care.

So, I'm sitting at my kitchen table wanting to say something to you today and there it was, the canisters my daughter bought for me in the corner by the stove. There are three of them and I started thinking about how many things in life seem to be matters of three. As a software developer one of the basic concepts that I depended upon could be broken down into three decisions - True, False and Not. Something could be true if something else was true, but it could also be true if something else was false, and something could be 'not true' if something else was true, but a third thing was also true. The same could apply if the third thing were false. But suppose there were more than three, say thirty, or 300 or 67. Does this sound fun? Well, the truth is that for some of us it suggests that there are infinite possibilities. What if someone picked up one of those brilliant oak leaves and they just studied it for 10 minutes one day, and another 10 minutes the next day? I would bet that they can discover an image in that leaf if they concentrate on it long enough. Wouldn't it be fascinating to know what they discover, with just one leaf? Can you picture it becoming a habit? Can you imagine the task becoming purposeful, as if sustaining...because it was a matter of knowing.

In my grief I've been through three distinct phases so far - shock, becoming functional, and now a changed life. Note that I did not say death. That's because I don't need to accept death. Accepting a changed life is what matters here. Suppose you just walked right past thousands of oak leaves for 10 years, or 22 years and each one of those leaves had fulfilled its purpose until 'deciding' to finally rest. Now we are left with a changed tree and a new purpose.

I am so sorry for your loss. I desperately want to engage with you here, learn from you, offer compassion in your grief, help you to learn how to care again about dozens of things. I want to learn from you so that I too can care about things I need to care about.

I must tell the world here about 'A Pink Jacket'. I won't do it today but I'm hoping that when you see these three words, 'A Pink Jacket'...you will decide...to read about it. You'll know what to do.

LostThomas