Sister Mary Chronicles: Four-Way synchronicity — John, Meg, Me — and Rahel

So. As usual, my sister Mary, who recently died, continues to rise and fall in my ongoing awareness. This morning featured a something from a fb friend Rahel, in Israel. She sent me this, with the message, “Thinking of you, Ann.”


Then, about an hour ago, sister Mary’s husband John called me, from Hailey, Idaho, where he is visiting my sister Kathy and her husband Marty. (They had been stopped from coming to Seattle for Mary’s funeral by fog (only one flight out a day).)

Here he is with Kath, walking by the Wood River, with this message: “Mary and I loved to walk along the river it was the site of many a deep conversation.”


They also managed to get to the site of the Kreilkamp Cabin, which our family occupied for many years, after it had been designed and built by my first husband, Patrick Cudmore, then a fledgling architect, who never did another building after working with my Dad, saying it was too stressful to work with clients!


The “cabin” looks very different than its original simple, elegant beauty. Here is the original version, photo taken from the other (non-river) side.


Right now the cabin is once again, for sale. It appears that everyone who buys it, lives in for a while and loves it, changes it somewhat, and is then pushed out! I wonder if that has to do with the actual siting of the cabin, at the convergence of two rivers, how they keep moving along. And so we do, too. Which makes me see the cabin as the very icon of the Buddhist notion of impermanence.

Which of course, makes me think again of Mary. Here’s a photo that her daughter Meg sent out on fb today.

11219575_10100326510791875_3184209370039390141_n-1That photo must have been taken at least ten years ago.

Speaking of Meg brings me to the four-way synchronicity of the title to this post. On the phone, I asked John how Meg was doing. He said that when he called her this morning, she told him about a photo that she had saved on her phone two years ago, and just today rediscovered. “Oh really,” he said. “Well, I’ve just discovered something too, and I want to read it to you.” And with that he started reading the text in the photo above. “Death is nothing at all. It does not count.” “Oh wow!” she said. “Same photo!”

That’s when I told him that Rahel had sent me that photo, just this very morning.

Death is nothing at all. It does not count — when we put death and every other seeming “event” in our short or long and very impermanent lives in this larger context of Mystery.

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