(February 26, 2000)Peace of mind is a jewel looked for in the worst of times and in the best of times. It's the feeling we get when we turn off a busy road to a secluded spot along a country lane. Peace is suppertime when the sunset gilds every window and a quiet contentment makes man and nature akin. It is a warm bath, a soft pillow, a shaft of moonlight that touches the spirit. It is knowing that things can work out: peace comes and life is worth living. It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you would risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the sheer adventure of being alive. It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. We never really lose anyone, if they were ever a part of our lives. The important thing is not to regret what has gone before but to take from it the lesson and the experience that was in it for us.Life is a two-way street: not always sunshine and flowers, but a few clouds and a few tears go with it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own . . . if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tip of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human. It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself . . . if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore, trustworthy. I want to know if you can see the beauty even when it's not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of a full moon, "Yes!" It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for your children. It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments. When all these questions are answered, then I can look with tranquility inside myself and say:
"With beauty above me, I lie down . . .
With beauty around me, I lie down . . .
With beauty before me, I lie down . . .
With beauty below me, I lie down."
Though I am close to completing Tawanka's emails, I've come to notice they've been saved out of order. I had hoped to post them in order, but alas, I have not.
That said, I've looked over the last several that I have to post and realize that this is the last email that Tawanka ever sent. She died less than two weeks after this email. It is one of her longer emails, but certainly one that, I think, sums up much of what her emails tried to convey: the love, peace, and her particular way of looking at life.
* Sigh.* Miss you, grandma.
