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Blessed Day

Comfort me with your quanta;

Spiritual Eldering: Integration in Motion
Reviews of Sacred Dying: Creating Rituals for Embracing the End of Life
The Necromantic Ritual Book
CRONING: What Would it Take?
Crone: Wise, Empowered, Self-Defined
Croning Ceremonies
If you want to live longer, be happy, healthy and successful,
Fantastic Lifeforce
Aging well: a lesson from centenarians
Conscious Choices For Aging With Grace
Aging With Grace
Herbs And Aging
Successful aging: abilities, strategies and understandings among elderly
Women Speak Out Against Aging
Croning Ceremony Celebrates the Wisdom of Age
A Croning Ritual
The Charge of the Crone
The Pleasures of Middle Age
Croning Ritual/Entering the Wise Age
Successful Aging:
Successful aging: THE SECOND 50
Live Long Live Free
Healthy Aging
Graceful Aging Starts When You Are 45!
Antidotes to limiting beliefs about aging
Links To Interesting Aging Articles
When dying becomes a gift
Conscious Aging:
Comfort me with your quanta;
Life After Life ... Death is merely a changing room.
Doorways of the Soul: Transformation of Energy
Aging What Can We Do About It?
Aging Well with the Alexander Technique
Aging Gracefully Through Vastu Shastra
Aging is a Mistake
Better Aging
Confronting Death
Reflections on Physical Immortality
Eternal Being
What Is Death
Aging Gracefully: It's All a Matter of Timing
About Me
Favorite Links
Contact Me
Aging is a Woman's Issue
The Crone: Getting ready for the unavoidable
What Happens After We Die?
What really happens when we 'die?'
links and resources for aging women
Books I Recommend
Growing Old and Liking It
Red Hats and Archetypes
Older Women Unite! Gray Is Gorgeous

  Comfort me with your quanta;
   Tell me nothing is lost
   Because nothing was
   Ever found. I wish to believe,
   But grieve instead.

   Tell me there were only
   Electromagnetically charged empty spaces
   Where I once knew their faces
   And surfaces of skin to touch.
   Persuade me they are not dead.

   What phantom assurance is memory-
   My grandfather's wind-up clock
   That sat on the heavy wood buffet,
   His overstuffed couch that swallowed me to sleep,
   And the crisp toast he made
   In the gas stove on Sunday mornings?
   Tell me my ache is mistaken physics,
   And I will ask you to taste
   His morning oatmeal with me
   Fifty years ago.

   Console me with quantum cleverness;
   Wrap me in a goose down of indeterminancy.
   Metaphysical relief will dissolve
   Into rude tears, though,
   Because my father who played the violin
   And taught me so imperfectly
   About being a man is dead.
   His absence is more palpable
   Than hardwood floors.
   Death creeps so slowly into fact;
   I find no balm in quantum leaps.

   Part of my flesh is missing;
   My life has become an assortment
   Of phantom limbs.
   If they are not lost,
   Why cannot I bear
   To be certain
   They are so entirely gone?

All correspondence should be addressed to Howard F. Stein, PhD, Department of Family and Preventive Medicine, University of Oklahoma Health Sciences Center, 900 NE 10 Street, Oklahoma City, OK 73104.

COPYRIGHT 2001 Appleton & Lange
COPYRIGHT 2001 Gale Group

This is a site about my journeying toward aging.
To know how to grow old is the master work of wisdom, and one of the most difficult chapters in the great art of living.
~ Henri Frederic Amiel ~