It was a good weekend. New dear friends, visiting from Hawaii. Even newer dear friends, sharing words, images and sounds, of a guy who went by several names.

I’ve been learning the fine art of detachment. It is the way to better things. But it’s important to understand it’s a detachment that is not without compassion. It’s only the end to suffering kind of detachment I strive for.

Find the pain, acknowledge and understand it. Put pain and its side-kick, self-pity, in a compartment. Keep it separate from the one holding the memories of the guy who went by several names.

This is not anything like the concept of ‘closure.’ I’m so glad I met someone yesterday who also thinks that word is so inappropriate! She called it a fascist word (poets are great). When someone dies, why should we feel compelled to get past the reality, to close the book? Is it such an inconvenience to our daily self-absorption? The body is gone, the dust bin is swept, but the memory has no need to die. The presence, the light, the wisdom and wonder of a guy who went by several names, is still right here and ready to make us laugh.

So, laugh and let it be.