Life is full of puzzle pieces.

My puzzle pieces include simple moments. In one moment, during a walk in the Retreat Woods this Fall, the rich color of the New England Autumn leaves of one tree in particular, entered my eyes, touched some sensitive spot in my brain, overwhelmed my aesthetic sensibilities, and burst out of me in tears. It was a simple moment: it was just me; it passed relatively quickly; it was not what you’d call eventful. Yet somehow, that moment was significant. Feeling so deeply, and being present so fully, was a gift - a puzzle piece - tossed into the box of my life, along with other puzzle pieces like it.

There were other puzzle pieces, other moments like that. Like - numbly standing in a parking lot with friends, realizing it’s raining… and recognizing I’m noticing the weather. It was the first time in 7-months that I’d noticed the weather - 7-months after my daughter had died. Like - driving west on Rt. 9, suddenly struck with a view of the sun setting, peach-colored in the mountains, and crying - because I was thinking (for the first time in two years) life is beautiful.

Recently, I was handed another ‘gift’ - another simple yet significant moment - walking home from downtown Brattleboro, cars on the road, people in the cars… suddenly remembering - becoming - part of a whole picture that includes every one - every thing - and feeling complete… free. It didn’t last long. It was insignificant to the people in the cars, watching me walk by. Yet, I was fully present and fully connected; it was momentous. That moment was a gift - a puzzle piece - that makes my life more meaningful, richer.

Right now, I’m riding grief waves. My friend is ill. It’s a big illness. I can’t imagine my life without her being a part of it, yet, that may happen sooner than we’d imagined. I can’t imagine how I can help support her daughter with this, and yet, I want to. I don’t know how we’ll all get through this, yet, I’m fully in for every inch of this ride.

I know grief. I know this kind of pain. And though it’s searing, I would not throw away any of these puzzle pieces - not one. These moments - when the grief waves take me down - moments of sobbing, of feeling helpless, of forcing myself to be patient - these are gifts. These moments are born of love. I love my friend. I love everything about her. I love her no matter what she goes through, or what I will go through because of my love for her.

All these puzzle pieces - the ones that are so beautiful they bring me to tears; the ones that free and connect me; the ones that tear my heart open - form a picture. Even the parts of me that are insecure, petty, indignant, bored, small… are precious little parts. Even they have precious little moments. And yet, every part, every moment - though integral puzzle pieces - are small parts of the whole picture. The picture of my whole life is larger than the pieces that make it up. Even with some unloving, unlovable, and unlove-able pieces in the box, the largest, whole picture forming seems to be - Love.

It takes the unity of all of our parts to feel like a whole self. It takes the unity of all of our experiences to feel like we've lived a whole life. It takes the unity of the personal self with that-which-is-larger-than-self to feel like a part of the whole picture.

Life is full of puzzle pieces. What array of puzzle pieces are in your box? When your puzzle pieces are clicked together, and a picture starts to form, what do you see? Can you step back even further? What do you see? sense? feel? Step back even further still - where you can begin to see the picture that we all belong to - where there’s pain + joy, you and me, the 4-leggeds, the trees, the water, earth + sky, those things we don’t understand… What do you see? What is the larger, whole picture?