The synchronicity of life often leaves me laughing and always pondering.

On December 22, 1849, Dostoevsky was taken to a public square, along with others, to be executed. It was a public warning to the masses. He waited his turn. After much pomp and to do, as they waited, a reprieve came. A reprieve from having his head severed from his body. The reprieve meant years of forced servitude. Having faced his death, and knowing his future, Dostoevsky wrote “

Brother, I have not become downhearted or low-spirited. Life is everywhere life, life in ourselves, not in what is outside us, …not to be downhearted nor to fall in whatever misfortunes may befall me-this is life; this is the task of life. … The head which was creating, living with the highest life of art, … that head has already been cut off from my shoulders. …But there remains in me my heart and the same flesh and blood which can also love, and suffer, and desire, and remember, and this, after all, is life. *

On December 22, 2019, Ram Das, a spiritual mentor to many of us, left his human form and merged into his mantra of love. In 1997, he experienced a stroke that left him unable to speak or use much of his body. Ram Das wrote “The stroke itself was not grace, but my reaction to the stroke was grace.” His post stroke books elaborated on ‘being here now.’ His life was spent serving others, who like him, were dependent upon others for survival. We are, after all, “just walking each other home,”

On Winter’s Solstice, I stood in awe and grace before the tree that always calls to me. More years than I can imagine, it has stood within the rushing waters of the river. Its elephant leg roots extend and play with the water. Dostoevsky’s words whispered to my heart. Tonight I learned of Ram Das’ departure. His teachings, like the tree roots, have grounded and played with the rushing rivers of my blogs.

And so the whisper, smiling at the synchronicity, to stand like the tree and know the river’s force. This “after all, is life” and the grace “is our reaction,” our choices. In the play, that love affair with life, we can, with equal grace, “walk each other home.”

Namaste Ram Das

*Dostoevsky, Letters and Reminiscence