[Dialogue] Fwd: [Oe List ...] "Twilight edition"

[J&OSlotta]

Dear colleagues,

I'm forwarding to the "ICA" listserve what David Dunn had earlier sent 
to the "Order Ecumenical" listserve. There may be those among you that 
otherwise would not know current news about ICA colleague Terry Wright. 
He is still living, but in hospice. Jim Rippey had sent contact 
information to you a few days ago.

Jim Slotta in Denver



Begin forwarded message:

> From: David Dunn <ddunn at ica-usa.org>
> Date: Mon Nov 14, 2005  1:01:54  AM US/Mountain
> To: OE Community <OE at wedgeblade.net>
> Subject: [Oe List ...] "Twilight edition"
> Reply-To: Order Ecumenical Community  <OE at wedgeblade.net>
>
> Hello Friends,
>
> I visited Terry this evening and have just finished typing his last
> 'Tidbits' email newsletter. Some of you will already have received it. 
> It's
> pasted below.
>
> Terry is beginning to wrap up his affairs. He apologized to me for an 
> old
> trespass, long forgotten. I wept and thanked him from the bottom of my
> heart. As you see, he has also taken it upon himself to let go of 
> further
> obligation to write more 'Tidbits.'
>
> His own words say it simply: "It has been a long time coming, a long 
> work,
> to achieve a solitary life that works..."
>
> I'll share news of his journey.
>
> David Dunn
>
>
> _______Terry wrote over the last several days:
>
> Welcome!
>
> This is the last of the Tidbit series and the beginning of its absence 
> among
> us.
>
> Thank you for a wonderful journey together. Here are a couple of 
> thoughts I
> jotted down on the first day of hospice. And some reflections on a man 
> named
> Robert I met later.
>
> November 5, 2005
> Lakewood, Colorado
>
> It has been an unwelcome gift filled with shock and pain. 
> Confrontation with
> reality the protest and anger slipping aside as the sniff of truth 
> weighs in
> and I am overcome with wonder at how things develop. This was not the 
> plan!
> Yet it is the path life has chosen for me and I’d just as well say yes 
> and
> turn to living it in the now.
>
> It has been a long time coming, a long work, to achieve a solitary 
> life that
> works, a lovely place to live, outgrowing adolescent claims and 
> desires,
> lingering over hopes long dead, being friends now with the ones that 
> are
> present, expanding my self to fill the universe each day, sharing the 
> wisdom
> that results. Humbled by the response.
>
> What chorus of angels is it I hear singing life in secular voice? The 
> depths
> have always been sung. Yet it has been so hard to peel aside the 
> shell, leaf
> by leaf, to discern those depths, to soak in their essence and reshape 
> them
> with my own life--to set aside my beliefs, my preferences, my stakes, 
> my
> fears, my doubts. A long series of epiphanies, small puffs of white 
> smoke
> along the way.
>
> ******
>
> Saturday, November 5, ’05, 1:45 a.m.
>
> Robert, a large black man who works here as a technical assistant to 
> the
> nurses, wheeled me out to the smoking porch. Barbara calls it “smoking
> without guilt.”
>
> There is a large group in the lounge, mourning the loss of a brother. 
> They
> mill around slowly, touching, hugging, praying, being together. 
> Palpable
> presence of passing. Undeniable loss and its introspection. Yet a 
> radiance
> among them like a glow in the room. It seems as though I have created 
> the
> presence for them, yet it know it is not I but spirit, circulating 
> like a
> mist among us, touching dried out souls with blood and viscera, 
> moisture
> that leaves a last fact among our multitude of imaginations and 
> fantasies.
> Anchor to earth and universe, and to the touch of God.
>
> Robert is gone, taking a poetry book with him to read in his days off. 
> He is
> practically illiterate, but reads haltingly and grasps the meaning
> intuitively, talks with me about it, brightens noticeably as the 
> meaning
> bursts through and is set by my affirmation. One poem led him to 
> Einstein
> and relativity and he was deeply pleased with himself as he talked on 
> about
> the relationship and its significance in his world—very grass-roots in 
> his
> comments. He really got his mind around it and a real thrill for me to 
> see
> it happen: it is the purpose of my writing and a validation of my 
> methods.
>
> 6 a.m. Saturday and eight cigarettes later, coming inside to warmth and
> breakfast and my roommate shitting in his bed. G’night! God bless.
>
> Not much more to say; not much assurance of time left to say it. But I 
> can
> sense an ending to this glorious embodiment of spirit I call my life. 
> May
> you know it also and embrace it in union with your own.
>
> That’s it. Grace and Peace. tcw
>
> +++++++++++++
>
>
> "Whoever you are…the world offers itself to your imagination…"
>                                    —Mary Oliver, poet
>
>
>
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