Tune In Turn On Turn Up.

aka Connecticut Continued.

“Wake up, Child. Pay attention. You must wake up!
[titter] wake up! [titter]
Wake up, man!
Wake up, child! pay attention!
Come on, wake up!”
~Kate Bush, Waking the Witch


Eulogy. - Part 2

This is the second part of my kaleidoscopic trip through the Hall of Emotions I encountered in my trip home. While in Connecticut, I attended and spoke at my friend Alex’s memorial service, which was held at her former high school, Ethel Walker. Strange that it was being held in my hometown, a small New England community of about 30,000. I’d forgotten that Alex even had a Simsbury connection. I was meant to be there.

Alex’s service was a beautiful and loving tribute to the short, brilliant life Alex led, a life without compromise. Her brother Adam spoke eloquently and deeply, demonstrating his extraordinary love for his sister.

A repeated theme in Alex’s friends words and in my own thoughts, were how skillful she was about acknowledging all the “little things”, the birthdays, the gratefulness for being her friend, the acts of kindness. She was aware.

We all get caught up in lives busy to distraction, hurriedly racing along our individual paths, thinking, “Hey, I’ll be better next time. I’ll do it later.”

There is no later. Be here now. Thank you Brothers Gallagher. And thank you Alex, for the reminder to reach out and be there, to say the kind words, the words of appreciation, to acknowledge love, to not wait to say them as Eulogy.

Below follow two quotes. The first, from Ken Wilbur’s One Taste. Adam spoke these words and they deeply resonated with me. The second are my own, what I spoke about how grateful I was to know Alex.

*

“With the awakening of constant consciousness, you become something of a
divine schizophrenic, in the popular sense of “split minded,” because you
have access to both the Witness and the ego. You are actually “whole
minded,” but it sounds like it’s split, because you are aware of the
constant Witness or Spirit in you, and you are also perfectly aware of the
movie of life, the ego and all its ups and downs. So you still feel pain and
suffering and sorrow, but they can no longer convince you of their
importance – you are no longer the victim of life, but its Witness.

In fact, because you are no longer afraid of your feelings, you can engage
them with much greater intensity. The movie of life becomes more vivid and
vibrant, precisely because you are no longer grasping or avoiding it, and
thus no longer trying to dull or dilute it. You no longer turn the volume
down. You might cry harder, laugh louder, jump higher. Choiceless awareness
doesn’t mean that you cease to feel; it means you feel fully, feel deeply,
feel to infinity itself and laugh and cry and love until it hurts. Life
jumps right off the screen, and you are one with all of it, because you
don’t recoil.

If you are having a dream, and you think it’s real, it can get very scary.
Say you are dreaming that you are tightrope walking across Niagara Falls. If
you fall off, you plunge to your death. So you are walking very slowly, very
carefully. Then suppose you start lucid dreaming, and you realize that it’s
just a dream. What do you do? Become more cautious and careful? No, you
start jumping up and down on the tightrope and doing flips – precisely
because you know that it isn’t real. When you realize that it’s a dream, you
can afford to play.

The same thing happens when you realize that ordinary life is just a dream,
just a movie, just a play. You don’t become more cautious, more timid, more
reserved. You start jumping up and down doing flips, precisely because it’s
all a dream, it’s all pure Emptiness. You don’t feel less, you feel more –
because you can afford to. You are no longer afraid of dying, and therefore
you are not afraid of living. You become radical and wild, intense and
vivid, shocking and silly. You let it all come pouring through, because it’s
all your dream.

Life then assumes its true intensity, its vivid luminosity, its radical
effervescence. Pain is more painful and happiness is happier; joy is more
joyous and sorrow is even sadder. It all comes radically alive to the
mirror-mind, the mind that doesn’t grasp or avoid, but simply witnesses the
play, and therefore can afford to play, even as it watches.

What would motivate you if you saw everything as the dream of your highest
Self? What would actually move you in this playful dream world? Everything
in the dream is basically fun, at some deep level, except for this: when you
see your friends suffering because they thing the dream is real, you want to
relieve their suffering, you want them to wake up, too. Watching them suffer
is not fun. And so a deep and powerful compassion arises in the heart of the
awakened ones, and they seek, above all else, to awaken others – and thus
relieve them from the sorrow and the pity, the torment and the pain, the
terror and the anguish that comes from taking with dreadful seriousness the
passing dream of life.”

Ken Wilbur, One Taste (Boston: Shambhala, 2000), 66-67.

**

Hi Everybody.

My name is Craig Hermes and I am one of Alex’s Switzer friends from San Francisco. You’re probably wondering, “What the heck’s a Switzer?” Well, it was the name given to our pace group when training for the Honolulu Marathon in 2002. What an amazing event. It’s been said that the two most bonding experiences are theatre and war. Having been an actor, I’d say training for a marathon ranks right up there, at least with acting.

Alex was such a joy to have as a part of our group. Her wit, sarcasm, and love for our group and us were extraordinary. I remember laughing as much as panting while training for the marathon. Alex was the driving force behind making sure we forged ties that would last well beyond the event.

When I think of Alex now, it’s the earth-shaking laugh, the twinkle of her eyes, and her amazing attention to the little things—the many acts of thoughtfulness—that we could learn a great deal from.

Two of my favorite qualities of Alex’s were exemplified in a scuba dive we did in Honolulu. First, her ability to always choose the more difficult path, the one that afforded the most growth, the one most outside of her comfort zone, the one that scared her. She fearlessly took these paths and succeeded each time. Alex certainly ascribed to Helen Keller’s school of thought, “Life is a daring adventure, or it is nothing at all.”

Each of us being a little rusty in the scuba department, we signed up for a beginner’s boat dive-figuring, “Eh, probably 35 feet or so looking at coral.” We got out to the dive site and the guy was barking orders at us to hurry up and jump in because we were doing an extra deep dive to 110 feet, to dive through a shipwreck.

We hopped in the water and started to descend. About halfway down, Alex gripped my arm, VERY FIRMLY, so I stopped descending and looked at her to see if she was okay, or if she wanted to ascend and call it a day. Her eyes were wide as saucers, and she was really gripping the regulator, and breathing shallowly.

We stopped immediately, and made eye contact. I shrugged and pointed up, happy either to keep diving or to head on up. As our eyes met, they softened, her grip on my arm softened, and I saw a smile appear in her eyes and on her lips around her regulator. She released my arm and I followed her down.

Her other ability which I cherish was her ability to laugh at life’s absurdities. As we were getting ready for that dive, the divemaster brought us our two wetsuits, which were a perfect custom fit—if we were a 5’ tall, 85 pound Japanese tourist. They were the only suits they had, and we were being told, “Hurry up! Hurry UP!! The others are waiting!!” as we were scrambling to get these on.

We stopped and just started laughing to the point of crying, trying to make things fit where they obviously didn’t. Finally, Alex laughing so hard she had to sit down crying, said, “God! I feel sexy! Where’s the one for my other leg??”

It’s still makes me laugh—out loud. Thank you, Alex, for just one of so many fun, wonderful memories.

I’d like to read to you something I wrote for Alex just a few weeks ago.

for alex.
Hey folks. Just a few days ago I mentioned how I had to write a piece for my friend Alex as she was preparing for AIDS/LifeCycle last year. Seems she had to justify to her boss why she wanted to take a week of personal time to do AIDS/LifeCycle, why it was necessary. It really made me think about what the ride meant to me and made me feel as if I was accompanying Alex on her ride. I was really grateful for her request to make me stop and think about how necessary, transformative and beautiful the rides are.
Thank you, Alex, for that, and for your other numerous gifts of heart that I've experienced knowing you. I dedicate this ride to Alexandra Brucker, a two time AIDS/LifeCycle participant, a Honolulu AIDS Marathon finisher (a Switzer!), my friend.
Alex passed away last week at the age of 29. I'll miss her.
I spoke with Alex about a week ago. We talked about her life in Jackson Hole, about my upcoming ALC journey, about movies, chuckled about our lousy money situations, laughed out loud about the ugly painting of a foot she sent me(which I have right here, I KNOW she’d want you all to enjoy it…)--about how our dogs were the centers of our worlds. She was thrilled about her upcoming trip to see her friend Artie. It was a hopeful, comfortable, easy interaction.
Alex felt badly about not being in a position to donate to my ride. I've certainly been there! I told her that her support meant the world to me and was more than ample, but if she wanted to do something extra, she could buy me my favorite kind of Clif bar--that it would mean more to me than a thousand dollar donation. In her great efficiency, she was on it.
Three days later, I received a package. Inside, my favorite Clif bar and a framed photo collage of her experience riding last year. Her joy was tangible.
On the back, Alex wrote: For Craigers, love you always,xox aeb. I'm cheering for you! Yea! Go, Craig!! Have your own wonderful experience, and think of me along the way. I'll be with you."
Yes, Alex, you will. The wind at my back, as it were. (And Alex, I will need MORE than a little help, as I haven't gotten this sorry ass in the saddle very much this year....)
Thank you, Alex. I offer this ride to you, my beautiful friend with the acerbic wit, the bawdy laugh, the sad and hopeful eyes, and a heart enormously tender and loving. You've made a difference to me.
In trying to reconcile loss, in a world that can seem cold and inscrutable, I have found the words of the Dalai Lama to be of comfort: "Some people who are sweet and attractive, strong and healthy, happen to die young. They are masters in disguise teaching us about impermanence."
Again, thank you, Alex. Namaste. I honor the God in you.
Be at peace, be at peace, be at peace.
Xoxo craig

Thank you.