Monday, December 16, 2013

Eight Months Later - Celebrations of Life - "From hate to love"

When I woke up yesterday morning making the preparations for my birthday brunch with our dear friend Greg Gordon and his beautiful family, I realized it was the eight month anniversary of the Boston Marathon Bombings. My 60th birthday is on Christmas Day. It's a year long celebration as Disney would say and I'm having special times with special friends to celebrate since on Christmas Day everyone has their own family obligations. Greg and his family, Tom and I were together when the bombs went off waiting for members of the Spaulding Rehab Race for Rehab team to cross the finish line and celebrate at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. Greg and I were members of the 2009 Race for Rehab team and have been friends ever since.

Not even winter storm Electra or an NStar "power outage" could dampen our spirits of the day as seen in these photos:

And then it was off to Brookline Symphony Orchestra's A Winter Celebration concert. As Leonard Bernstein said,

Musical director Adam Boyles brought his A game once again to the podium as he delighted the audience with his enthusiasm and musical prowess conducting the Orchestra and the PALS Childrens Chorus in a selection of "non traditional" holiday music yet music that captured the joy and celebration of the season.

This morning on Facebook I happened to see this story in my news feed - Boston Marathon Bombing Survivor proposes to girlfriend:

WHDH-TV 7News Boston

As the Channel 7 newscaster so eloquently said, "from hate to love."

Beneath the Surface from A Celebration of Life now available on Amazon.

A landscape of scars
the map not the territory
of where a body has been
the well worn path of a weary traveler
seated on a rock
by water’s edge
contemplating Truth
and beauty

what do my eyes behold

the gnarly knots on the tree trunk
or the majesty of the mighty oak
roots deeply descending
branches outstretched to the heavens
giving me shade and pause
to remember to remember

the body is my casing
the real trophy’s deep inside
no surgeon’s scalpel
no hands raised to harm
can touch my magnificence
drinking in this majestic view

gentle breeze inviting me
no invoking me to cast off my anchor

no longer assailed
Spirit sails
celebrating the joy of being.

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