A Birthday and an Ocean of Love

My nephew Carlos

I had the very best nephew in the world. His name was Carlos. And at the moment, to know he is here might seem tricky at first because he passed away in 2006. Just before his 5^th birthday. He graced this small world with his wonderful presence for just 4 years. He worked a lot of magic in those few years. He inspired so many people with his smiles, his contagious laugh, his playful personality, his peaceful grace and his charm. Carlos was a boy of few words, but he was also a boy of the ocean. He was known to celebrate the sight of the sea with his enormous, expressive eyes and the perfect words of gratitude to whoever took him by telling them “thank you” in the most meaningful voice. His gentle energy was inspiring. And I can still call to mind the delightful sound of him giggling; especially from those times he played a game that involved some great surprise or scare. He loved a good scare. He loved the ocean. He loved Cheerios. He loved his family. For such a small little guy, he had a whole lot of love inside of him. And there was something about him that made everyone around him, and even people who never knew him, give a whole lot of love to him. And that love is still here, growing, all around, every-present in the universe we feel. That is why it’s really not that tricky to know that Carlos is still here.

If I could point to one thing and say this is the thing that has been the single most influential thing in my life, it would be that I got to be Carlos’ auntie for almost 5 years. I would say that’s a pretty big deal, that I was Carlos’ auntie. One could say that I’m pretty proud of it. It is the reason that I found this passion for all children, and especially for special children, for those with special needs. It is the reason I love teaching, especially that one child who challenges me to see him or her in a new way that ends up giving me the opportunity to change and learn something that only a child can teach. It is the reason that every time I get to see the ocean, which is almost every day in Vanuatu, I feel a simple and full sense of gratitude. I want to thank someone. I want to thank Carlos.

I wrote my last post on this blog about birthdays, and how important I think it is to celebrate them. And this week is Carlos’ birthday. He would be 9, but in my mind he is forever-4. A timeless reminder of love and peace and gratitude. And a continual source of inspiration. Happy Birthday Carlos. I will celebrate your love and your memory today and every day. I will celebrate that I am still an auntie, and that I now have the best niece in the entire world named Sophia Moon, whose large eyes and expressive 4-year-old face bear a striking resemblance to her brother Carlos. And I will celebrate the way that you, Carlos, never let autism or epilepsy define you; these things were not you, even if you knew them to be an important part of you. But you were something so much bigger than them. And like your big spirit, and your big love, there is still a big love for you all around this world. And I love you Carlos.

“Love for a specific person is radiant when it arises in emptiness. It is still love, it is still intensely personal, it is still very specific; but it is a wave that arises from an ocean of infinity. It is as if a great sea of love brings forth a wave, and that wave carries the force and thrill of the entire sea in its every breaking crest. The sensation is like watching an early morning sunrise in the desert: a vast open clear blue spaciousness within which there arises, on the horizon, an intense red-yellow fire. You are the infinite sky of Love, in which a particular fire-ball of personal love arises. One thing is certain: infinite love and personal love are not mutually exclusive- the latter is just an individual wave of an infinite ocean.” --Ken Wilbur