Already Here by Leo Galland

Author:Leo Galland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hay House
Published: 2018-02-13T05:00:00+00:00

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5 Eurhythmy is a form of rhythmic, therapeutic exercise that originated within the Waldorf education movement in Switzerland during the 1920s, and was later adapted by the founders of the Camphill movement in England to meet the needs of brain-injured children and adults.

CHAPTER

11

I spent several months thinking about the illusory nature of space and time and meditating on “God’s moment,” as Chris had explained it to me. My musing was shattered one cold day in January, when Peter Cymanow was suddenly killed by a speeding taxicab. One moment he was alive—buoyant, optimistic, and full of energy. The next he was gone, instantly eliminated on a Saturday night as he stepped off the curb at Broadway and 106th Street on his way to buy the Sunday Times. His wife and sons were in shock. Standing at the brink of an abyss that rent their lives, they drew on the strength of denial. Monday morning Margaret was at work and Shimon and Paavo were at school, trying to go on as if life were a war and loss was to be expected. That was the family ethic: work hard and never look back. Looking back only brought back pain.

Peter Cymanow had grown up in the poverty of Cold War Poland, losing his mother to a mysterious illness at the age of 14 and shortly afterward losing his father to a second wife who resented her stepson. He had lived on a small stipend from the state, virtually homeless, riding the trains around Kraków throughout each night, as the safest and warmest place to study and to sleep. He was fortunately befriended by Margaret, who encouraged him to pursue his music and his education. He majored in theater at the University of Kraków and sang in a student choir. After graduation, he managed a chamber-music ensemble for the Kraków Philharmonic. Margaret studied physics, and later taught it at a girls’ high school while singing with a church choir that toured Europe by invitation. Because they had married, they were never allowed to travel together, lest they defect. Helped by friends outside the country, they eventually arranged passage to the U.S., bringing their two young children. Life in New York had been financially difficult but personally triumphant. Three hundred friends attended the funeral Mass at Peter’s parish church. Everyone recalled his warmth, generosity, and spontaneity, his resourcefulness and talent. He seemed to us like a born survivor, a man who could always glimpse the cab bearing down on him and deftly step out of its path, under any conditions. He had not seemed destined for an early death.

In the weeks after Peter’s death, I began to realize that I was angry. Angry at the cabdriver whose selfish and careless desire to make time had robbed Peter’s sons of their father. Angry at myself for all the times I hadn’t seen him in the past year. He had worked just two blocks from my office, and we often spoke about meeting after work, but, as usual, I was just too busy and so was he.

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