Sep 8, 2023·edited Sep 9, 2023Liked by Hans Altwies
Dear Hans,
I have just come from Ireland, a magical place, where I learned about thin spaces. This reminded me of you. Thin spaces are sacred spaces, found differently for different people, where the distance between heaven and Earth becomes thinner. These seem to be places where past present and future come together in moments, and spaces where we are able to do a lot of learning. This phenomenon is said to happen often on island of Ireland. Ireland is magical place, different from here, yet still familiar. I have not been able to stop thinking about it. You can look up the term thin spaces if you'd like to read about it.
I am reading along with you in memory and reflection of these days. We were thinking of you all deeply. David spent much of his birthday that February 14th sitting beneath Stella and hoping to deliver his flowers for her. He had missed his window, which I know still makes him sad. I spent most of that day sitting in the hospital, knitting a cashmere scarf for Stella, and trying to find someone close enough to you guys to help me offer my hands in help. Maya, David, and I read your letters aloud each night in those weeks as a family. Our tears streamed together with yours. There are some who don't believe in the thin spaces in Ireland, but i felt it, and I believe. People pilgrimage there, to the stone formations, mighty sea cliffs, quiet rivers, meadows, lochs, and forests in search of the thin spaces. Magic dwells in the melodies, and in the poetic use of language. There is an old wisdom. You would like it.
You continue to have my witnessing, as a one degree of separation friend. What stays with me from your posts, is your continued nurturing of love. not just the immense love for your children but also the continued search for love for yourself in your writing and your honoring of everyone’s process, including Stella.
Your family sat in front of mine for Moana, at the admiral theatre, years ago. I recognized Amy ( who was my teacher at Cornish and pregnant with Charlotte at the time) and didn’t want to intrude. I think about this all the time and how I missed my chance to meet Stella, even for a brief moment.
It’s strange what our brains and bodies hold onto.
Sep 1, 2023·edited Sep 1, 2023Liked by Hans Altwies
Reading this, I am reminded of the first time I read "The Accidental Tourist," about a man who shuts down after the death of his young son and is eventually reborn. I thought then that being a parent, with all the potential for pain, was only for the very strong. Your story, being true, is so much more painful to read, but I hope you draw on your strength to find your way through this, all the way to something approaching the meaning you seek.
Just witnessing, in grave awe, what you all have had to experience, Stella most definitely included. And wishing you a real-feeling freedom, or just plain real freedom, which, who knows, could be something have-able, should the wind blow right and the path get revealed.
Dear Hans,
I have just come from Ireland, a magical place, where I learned about thin spaces. This reminded me of you. Thin spaces are sacred spaces, found differently for different people, where the distance between heaven and Earth becomes thinner. These seem to be places where past present and future come together in moments, and spaces where we are able to do a lot of learning. This phenomenon is said to happen often on island of Ireland. Ireland is magical place, different from here, yet still familiar. I have not been able to stop thinking about it. You can look up the term thin spaces if you'd like to read about it.
I am reading along with you in memory and reflection of these days. We were thinking of you all deeply. David spent much of his birthday that February 14th sitting beneath Stella and hoping to deliver his flowers for her. He had missed his window, which I know still makes him sad. I spent most of that day sitting in the hospital, knitting a cashmere scarf for Stella, and trying to find someone close enough to you guys to help me offer my hands in help. Maya, David, and I read your letters aloud each night in those weeks as a family. Our tears streamed together with yours. There are some who don't believe in the thin spaces in Ireland, but i felt it, and I believe. People pilgrimage there, to the stone formations, mighty sea cliffs, quiet rivers, meadows, lochs, and forests in search of the thin spaces. Magic dwells in the melodies, and in the poetic use of language. There is an old wisdom. You would like it.
In remembrance and friendship,
Wendy
You continue to have my witnessing, as a one degree of separation friend. What stays with me from your posts, is your continued nurturing of love. not just the immense love for your children but also the continued search for love for yourself in your writing and your honoring of everyone’s process, including Stella.
Your family sat in front of mine for Moana, at the admiral theatre, years ago. I recognized Amy ( who was my teacher at Cornish and pregnant with Charlotte at the time) and didn’t want to intrude. I think about this all the time and how I missed my chance to meet Stella, even for a brief moment.
It’s strange what our brains and bodies hold onto.
With respect and awe...
Reading this, I am reminded of the first time I read "The Accidental Tourist," about a man who shuts down after the death of his young son and is eventually reborn. I thought then that being a parent, with all the potential for pain, was only for the very strong. Your story, being true, is so much more painful to read, but I hope you draw on your strength to find your way through this, all the way to something approaching the meaning you seek.
Just witnessing, in grave awe, what you all have had to experience, Stella most definitely included. And wishing you a real-feeling freedom, or just plain real freedom, which, who knows, could be something have-able, should the wind blow right and the path get revealed.
Oh Hans