Thursday, November 17, 2016

A Perfectly Timed Exit


I have unabashedly stolen this image from the internet. 
I don't usually do that sort of thing, but here I am, breaking all the rules. 



Leonard Cohen passed away very recently. I was informed of this very sad fact by my daughter late Wednesday night, as if Tuesday hadn't already served up enough for us all to chew on... At least I can say this: I can say I was conscious and alive and in the moment when I heard this news. I had been feeling whispers all day, vague premonitions, or something, anyway because I seem to possess that particular type of antennae for whatever reason. Even so, I stopped dead in my tracks. I sat down on the couch in our living room. I let the news sink in and I let the news settled down into my mind, and my heart, and in the coming days, it will also settle into my soul.

I did not know this man. Yet, I did. I knew him my whole life.

I didn't try to control my crying. I let the tears fall down. Tears of reverence. Tears of sorrow. Tears of joy at all that beauty wrapped up in one small and humble elderly man. A man in a suit.

Fact: Leonard Cohen and my grandfather are the only two men in the entire world, in the history of the world, who actually ever looked good in a fedora.

And also, Jason Wilson.

I don't own this grief and I know I don't so I put it down. And I just listen to his music more than ever and I learn from its poetry and I will continue to think about his remarkable handle on the English language while I consider the ways in which his heart and mind were tuned to the love of a power that is greater than self. Greater than me. Greater than you.

I loved him dearly for his courageous expressions of love (as an artist loves another) and I am sure--I am absolutely sure--that Leonard Cohen, like Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings, entered and left this world in this exact way: precisely when he meant to.

A perfectly timed exit.


And Love Itself Was Gone...





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