Sometimes You Want To Wallow In Your Sadness

“I’m sure glad THAT year is over,” they said

“Boy, that was a rough year,” they said

“I hope this year is a better year,” they said

As if a year were a tangible thing

As if a year were something we could hold in our hands

As if a year were something we could give back and take a different one, instead


It really WAS a rough year

Suppose I could slice-and-dice it

There were parts I would take out and toss on Mt. Trashmore

There were parts I would remove from my mind

Never to be thought of again

But there were also times that elevated my spirit

There was a time that took me out of myself to an unknown place

And left tears streaking down my face from a joy I have never known

Speechless, blubbering incoherently

I cannot break up the year, though

I cannot take the good bits and delete the rest

I cannot even pretend the miseries never happened, as I am still recovering from them

That year is a single, indivisible, intangible, invisible whatever-it-is

I get all of it, or I get none of it, so I took it all

So I have it still, even though it is over


THAT year was the year I got cancer

I was never going to get cancer, but I got cancer

It was a tiny little thing, but it was in the back of my eye

It had to come out, NOW, the doctor said

So the tumor came out, and so did the cloudy lens,

And now, with a miraculous new lens

I can see oh so clearly

I am a survivor


THAT year was also the year I had to have my hip replaced

Congenital dysplasia, the doctor said

I was never going to get my hip replaced, but I got my hip replaced

The pain was the determining factor

I endured it as long as I could, until I couldn’t

I am becoming bionic


THAT year was the year of the evacuation

Two days in Hell’s own traffic jam

And that damned storm kept her eye on us and followed us all the way to Tennessee

And hit us where we hid

But while there we passed time in Nashville and Chattanooga

And that was fun

But it was followed by two more days in traffic

And that was not fun


THAT year was also the year of the big total solar eclipse

On my lady’s birthday

For a present I gifted her with a total eclipse of the sun

In South Carolina, front row, longest duration

Nice move, right?

Yet, it moved me planes beyond anything I expected

The moon opened a hole in the sun that led to infinity

And it sucked me right in

There aren’t words...


THAT year brought some additional gifts to myself

A new car after ten years, all bright and shiny

Replete with bells and whistles

Economical, reliable, fun, and pretty to boot

There is also the new apartment with an even better view than I had before

The window wall directs my gaze over the pool, over the “recreational corridor”

Over the dunes, over the beach, and over the ocean

To that place of myth where the sun shakes itself free of the sea

In a spray of golden droplets by morning

And the Moon chases after by night dripping silver


THAT year has taught me to count myself among the blessed, after all

But sometimes you want to wallow in your sadness

(March 2018)



Ron Feldheim has studied, promoted, and taught the Edgar Cayce Readings for over thirty years. Beginning with the formation of the Miami Council in 1980, Ron’s focus has been on organizing and developing local field programs. Ron expanded his role as a field volunteer when the Miami and Palm Beach Councils later merged to form the Gold Coast Team. At this same time, A.R.E. Headquarters chartered the Southeast Region, and Ron was invited to join the Region Core Team of active volunteers. He then became the first Chairman of the Region’s Management Team, and after a six-year stint developed the position of Retreat Coordinator. He has been a member of two A Search For God Study Groups.

Currently residing in Miami Beach, he is Area Team Coordinator and just completed a one-year term as Chairman of the Region’s Management Team. Ron is a speaker, writer, healer, and intuitive. Ron’s professional career has been in Clinical Microbiology and Information Technology.