The Brokenness of Things
Are things ever perfect? No. In many ways we come to love and, hopefully, forgive the brokenness of things where there are no real answers, only more questions.
Mark Bromberg is a writer, editor, and publisher in Athens, Georgia. He selected material for and edited the poetry collection "Interbeing" [Eugene C. Bianchi, Wipf & Stock Publishers, 2021] and published the Athens Word of Mouth poetry anthology [Bellemede Books, 2015]. His work has appeared online and in print in New York, San Francisco, London, and elsewhere.
Are things ever perfect? No. In many ways we come to love and, hopefully, forgive the brokenness of things where there are no real answers, only more questions.
Our tendency to keep to our small circle of friends can lead us to overlook others. I’m sure Jesus would look out the big windows of the Globe and notice the suffering of those not as fortunate.
One goal of my long writing career has always been to explore the spirituality of aging in a humanistic idiom. Its themes can be related to traditional religious language, but they don’t have to be.
Teilhard wrote about the enormous value of doing ordinary things, much like the mindfulness of Buddhist practice. Feeding the cats, making coffee, watching birds from the porch: my aging has given me a perspective that I was too busy to know during my years of writing and teaching.
It is natural in many families to want things to continue on, to hope for deeper understanding, even to get better in some way. However when cancer or other illness strikes at this idea, the impermanence of life becomes a fact impossible to ignore.