The idea that "the self is an illusion" has become the bien pensant common sense of the day in many educated circles in the West. I think this is profoundly misguided, but I can see why it seems so compelling. In the English language, nouns label things while verbs label the things that they do. If you mistook this linguistic quirk for a deep philosophical truth then you would of course conclude that the self doesn't exist, because there is no single thing that "I" or "you" refers to. That is because on close examination "I" turns out to be a verb disguised as a noun.
This Thanksgiving, I will feel the love that always flowed so freely when my mom was alive. This Thanksgiving, I will look across the table at my very best friend, the one who loves me unconditionally, intensely, immensely. Although the face will be different, the feeling will be the same.
Part of your family wants traditions to stay exactly the same, others want to change everything. Conflicting desires, broken hearts, lots of attention when you'd rather just hide in your blanket fort until the whole thing is over -- it's too much.
I wish my son had been there to see me cry and to witness the grief of his friend and his friend's cousins. It would have been awkward for him, but that is the point. Death is part of life and I don't believe in sheltering kids from it. It is not the sort of topic one brings up in the playground, but my sense is many parents wouldn't see this as a missed opportunity.
Over two rocking years ago, an aneurysm burst on my father's infected aorta, he coughed blood, his eyes rolled in his head and he died in my ...
As human beings, it is difficult for us to grasp the concept of time. It always feels like we will have tomorrow until it is too late. We put love off for future dates, fully confident that we can spend more hours together and be more loving later; blinding ourselves to the fact that life is unpredictable and mostly out of our control.
One's day-to-day experience of life no longer relies solely on the mind, but of the senses too. As fleeting as life is, this present moment living, generated by the awareness of death, renders great stillness. In these moments, life and death have no separation.
Thanksgiving was my mother's favorite holiday. It wasn't even close. She liked Christmas but I think the whole gift-giving thing put pressure on her...
No one told me that the losing wasn't the hard part. It was the living day after day with loss.
The Christmas after my father passed away was just as heartbreaking as Thanksgiving. Mama tried to make up for his absence by buying me two "big gifts" instead of only one. There was still a void, but we managed to celebrate and tis the season to be merry. His absence was always painful, but it became normal.
Late at night in my bunk bed while I immersed myself into those ghost stories, I was secretly jealous of the characters that were alive. They had the chance to see an actual ghost, something that was definitely on my very short bucket list by the age of 10.
How do you come to terms with life and death and how have you chosen to find meaning in your existence?
Fraught family dynamics enliven The Hummingbird's Tour, a decidedly Southern comedy in which three very different siblings confront their own mortality -- and that of their beloved childhood nanny.
The coming Thanksgiving holiday is a time of family, friendship and love. Here is a rather unique story of one special friendship. When I was y...
Allow your body, allow your mind, allow your heart, allow your soul. Rise to your knees or stand and run, out of the shadow and into the light. It is your gift to move. To mourn. To speak. To breathe. To run. To love. To be. To live.
As we all #PrayForParis and apply Facebook filters to our profile pictures, we cannot turn a blind eye to human suffering around the world just because "those people" are not "us."