I woke up today with one line from a Creedence Clearwater Revival song stuck in my head on repeat: Big wheel keep on turnin’.
For context, the week I’ve just lived through has involved sitting with family around a dying loved one as she passed, a plumbing failure, climbing the Tree of Life with a small army of nieces and nephews, choking up with transcendent joy watching my cousin and the love of her life celebrate their commitment to one another, tearing up the dance floor, and so damn much laundry. Tomorrow is a funeral.
In the song, Proud Mary, the big wheel referenced is the paddlewheel on the back of a riverboat, the relentless force that keeps the boat moving forward through the muddy waters. This makes me think of the constant work of life, the unceasing, infinite nature of all of the care tasks that we do every day to keep ourselves, our loved ones, our dwellings, and our communities going through good times and bad.
The other thing that the Big Wheel is dredging up for me is the Wheel of Life. Whatever we are going through, it is temporary. Wherever we are, both the sacred and the profane are within arm’s reach. Whatever is happening, both joy and devastation are lurking close by.
The only way I know to cope with this reality is to live what is before me. I do not claim to be a Zen master; I do not claim even to handle any of this gracefully. My only goal is to recognize that none of these truths, none of these realities, exist in exclusion from the rest. Joy is still joy, even in grief. And grief is still grief, even in joy. We humans are expansive creatures. We contain multitudes. And those multitudes are often in direct contradiction with one another. So it goes.
I do make one promise to you: You’ll never regret spending time with those you love. Cherish them at every opportunity, and hold them in your heart forever.
Big wheel, keep on turnin’.
Speaking of sharing: Please do join me in an excellent earworm: