In memory of our meditation brother, Paul Goldmuntz, who left us on March 12, 2023.
Dear Paul,
I hope that your unexpected departure was a surprising blessing; that the fast rocket approach forced your hand to let go and got you to the other side quickly, with no time to worry about it. As you made the crossing, I trust that love rushed through every pore of you, that you bowed and gave over to that current. You were loved and knew the deliciousness of love -intoxicating and beautiful.
I remember in the early days of when we met, I was in a ‘pain situation’ and you had to live with a ‘wait and watch’ situation. I remember when you said that you were afraid of ‘Impermanence.’ I did a double-take and laughed and said that my fear was ‘Permanence’! Death, everything ends and Forever, no end whatsoever: We made both objects of our fear.
Can we be both of death and eternity? That we are temporary, impermanent vessels with a life force, that is never ending, always creating with perfection and mistakes built-in? Our created life and creations are stories, short threads, tendrils that come and go, throughout time, through all density of current. We weave. We create. We make. We spin and eventually bow out. And, then, even in the most fundamental of endings, compost is alive.
I wish we could talk more. This one-sided way is sad and is not enough. I will indulge and go on a little more…
A long time ago, a birch tree got inside of me.
One memory: Our 5th grade class had a tree planting event in front of the school to commemorate Earth Day, 1971. My teacher, Mrs. Smith, who became a family friend, Ms. Earth Day teacher herself, denies this whole story. But I remember us going outside and tree-planting happened. I swear it was a birch tree.
We make mistakes, our DNA makes mistakes, that seems to be a key feature of the creation of creation.
No matter if the birch tree implant was a mistake, I love that I get to think of Mrs. Smith, and that ‘birch and church’ rhyme and that I get to toss this out there and let it flap where it may flap, land where it may land.
This River Birch in my neighborhood was planted in 2008 in memory of Donald Moore, a friend’s husband. (I remember when it looked more like flexible sticks coming out of the ground.)
Like a game of non-linear relay, Don lives in our memory, in his son’s DNA, and this tree right here came forth for him.
Our current whips through and touches other countless species and creations–during our creating life and after our ending.
There is zero doubt on this point.
This is at Menotomy Rocks Park, a small forest nestled between the Route 2 highway and Paul’s neighborhood a half-mile away.
A space made with twigs and logs, enclosed and open at the same time. How many have entered or took time to look? Where they changed for a moment or not? Did suddenly a good idea pop into someone’s head? The possibilities are endless with our creations.
Paul created a life that helped many people, a sanctuary in the form of listening.
Through his work, Paul bore witness to devastating stories of people’s suffering, how it came to be that they were homeless, sick, scared or destitute. It was hard on his psyche to bear this witness. But he gave himself in this way anyway.
In the last few years, he created these mandalas. It calmed and gave him delight.
Rest now in peace Paul. What you did was always enough. I know often, you felt like it was barely adequate. Your life made a difference. Even as it was your time to bow out, the circle never stops.
I am grateful that we got to sit and spin together.
Love,
Wendy
I’m so very sorry for your loss. And so very glad you’ve marked it with this beautiful post. I, too, am drawn to trees. When I meditate I imagine my roots reaching out to the giant California redwoods I miss terribly since loving to Missouri. (Don’t get me wrong, I love the oak and hickory here in the Midwest—don’t want to diss my new friends.) Now I will add you and your birches to the friends I reach out to for peace, calm, and connection.
*since moving to Missouri
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Thank you Ronnie. Beautiful words and I’m glad to be part of your extended reach.
So sorry Wendy. Lovely tribute
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Thank you Kathleen.
What a lovely tribute, Wendy.
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Thank you Monique.