Tribute to Pat Sutherland
A group of people sit in a circle. They write and talk. The circle contains people who are strangers outside of the room. But once there, something mysterious happens: we come wearing our worries, and gradually, we begin to shed them: the fears and furies, the frustrations and despairs all drop off and pile up behind our chairs. And, like strangers after a second glass of wine, we feel the urge to share, and the intimacy of sharing. ‘Sharing’ is a word that’s used a lot: we share our thoughts and deepest feelings along with the chocolate biscuits, and every word we offer up is valued and never found wanting. Our precept is ‘Whatever you write is right…you can’t write the wrong thing’. The strangers often say things they don’t say to partners, children, closest friends. We write down our fears and secrets, then read them aloud; we betray ourselves, and it feels good. We laugh at morbid jokes, and we often cry: words that seem mundane on paper can be powerful when spoken. We sometimes read and cry at the same time. Every emotion is welcome in this room. We learn to embrace and feel each other’s pain; we cheer small triumphs; we laugh at ourselves. In the circle we are supported, understood. And at the end of our time together we pick up our worries from the floor and struggle into them, they feel lighter than before. Pat Sutherland
On 4th June, I published: Everything Goes Out Dancing by Pat Sutherland. Pat was too ill to come to the launch at the Partickhill Bowling Club in Glasgow. Fortunately we had recorded her reading a few poems a few weeks before. We had a full audience, and I’m really delighted I had bought and learned how to use a card reader the day before the event. I sold more than 50 books at £10 each. Her granddaughter, who is pictured on the cover dancing, read two poems and told the audience how her granny inspired her to write. I read the following poem as a tribute to Pat who started writing with me at the Maggie Cancer Care in Glasgow 14 years ago:
All is well
i.m. Pat Sutherland
O body swayed to music, O brightening Dance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance
WB Yeats
Even when receiving bad news –
a terminal diagnosis,
you see the beautiful
mixing minor and major keys
your metaphors weave
a tapestry of joy and woe
as William Blake well knew –
the only way to live
as if every day the last
but this present moment lives on
to become long ago
as you craft words
from a treasured past
When I heard Pat had died two days after the book launch, I recalled the Assisted Dying group where we discuss how we die. For a few zoom meetings, we’ve been talking about the ethics of suicide, medically assisted dying, and what is sometimes called self-deliverance. With Pat’s death, I’m widening my view to include all ways we can assist each other when dying. We all need assistance! I believe Everything Goes Out Dancing is Pat’s legacy, and once it was published, she was ready to let go of this life. Reflecting further, I realise this has happened a few times in my life. After supporting my father to have home hospice care, and playing a last game of cribbage with him which he won! I went to the Los Angeles airport and flew back to Glasgow. By the time I arrived home, my father was dead. When I visited my friend Jim in Glasgow’s Western Infirmary who had been in and out of hospital a few times, I didn’t think he would die soon; I asked him if he had a Will and what his wish list might be after he died. On my next visit, I scribed his Will and he signed it; and we wrote a wish list including what sort of funeral he would like, who to invite, what he would be wearing in his coffin etc. A few hours later, I received a phone that he had died, and that I was named as his next of kin because they had no trace of relatives. Had I assisted him in dying? I think so. And I wonder how many more times this will happen in my life? In writing a eulogy for my friend Robin Lloyd Jones – editor of Autumn Voices – who is still alive, including interviews with his wife, three children and three grandchildren, work colleagues, fans of his writing, and several friends – am I assisting him in dying? Probably.
Turn to gaze at the moon: Tai Chi, Poetry and Meditation
22 Sep to 29 Sep 2023 – a 7day retreat led by Sukhema, Jayaraja, Linda France, and Sue Ruben
Turn to Gaze at the Moon is a retreat for expanding our horizons through integrating the language of the body and the language of the heart. Together we will gather the intention to open to the body’s wisdom and find balance between mind and feeling. Taiji, writing & poetry have much in common: form, structure, sensitivity and a striving towards wholeness. Each move in taiji is a metaphor. The structured forms provide an inspiring backdrop for the weaving of rhythmic patterns with words.
Thoughts, like clouds, come and go: inspired by the mountains, loch, sky, moon and stars, we will combine writing with movement and mindfulness in a mosaic of interconnectedness for our own wellbeing and for all living beings everywhere.
Playing with whatever arises from our practice, we will rediscover the ground of our kindly awareness, just one facet in the larger dimension
For more information: https://www.dhanakosa.com/
PlaySpace Publications 