Diane Sherwood Continues Her Journey
Beloved Companion, Diane Sherwood, left her body after a long illness. Diane's last moments, like her life, reflected her love and deep gratefulness for the sacred web of connection between us all.
Diane devoted the last 15 years of her life to nourishing these connections, encouraging and mentoring others. We can say Diane was an accomplished woman. Her work for global environmental health, her work to fund the United Nations, her work at the Interfaith Council in Washington, DC. All this is beautiful but only expressions of a deeper source in a passionate life full of all the paradoxes.
Diane knew the terrible grief of losing a child to death, the isolation of that grief, the divorce that followed, the felt experience of abandonment by God, the anger, the separation from family relationships and years of living in which her own behaviors violated her spirit. She knew the world of illusions. She knew shame and fear and suffering - the initiation of companions of the Fourth Order.
Then one day Diane literally ran and hid in a convent whose sisters took pity and sheltered her. She recounted often the intense fear that she felt then that she would be pulled back into that old world by old friends. At the convent she found the writings of Thomas Merton and began hesitantly the life of prayer. She renewed her faith of origin in its sacramental life of penance, healing and Eucharist. There she began to experience the “Presence” and a courage and devotion that would be demonstrated throughout her remaining life.
What I always found amazing about Diane was her ability to reorient to the Spirit when the old feelings of unworthiness, fear, frailty struck again as they do in life. She consistently gave over her need of self judgment or self pity; and focused on the beauty of God, creation and others. It is tempting for all of us to remain in these familiar jails. She would not allow herself to be held back from love and joy - a great humility. She attained through grace this great spiritual discipline to which we of the Fourth Order aspire.
Diane was a “facilitator” in the greatest meaning of that word; a mentor of people and of their visions. Her capacity for bringing together many diverse people in the commonality of their humanity and divine source is legendary as is her smile.
Diane passed away at the Casey House hospice, surrounded by her sister, Donna, and other friends of the heart, who sang songs, whispered prayers, washed her feet, and eased her passing. Her funeral was quintessential Diane with touches of humor, beautiful eulogies, moving passages and inspiring hymns that evoked life. Diane, of course, had picked these out herself.
On the night of her death I was many thousands of miles away unable to sleep. When that happens, I pray for people. I was praying for Diane, ignorant of her condition, when suddenly my imagination had the two of us hovering in some space above the earth. She was a radiant ball of light. I said to her, “This is where your journey begins. I will follow in my time," I felt her 'yes!" and then she exploded out into everything. It was incredible. I, of course, discounted this as imagination. Why do we discount what is most real?
In the days following her death the world seemed a grayer place for her passing. Then memories of conversations, laughing, reading poems to each other, praying, being passionate about life and people and what matters, sharing faith, Diane with her arms in the air reciting Rumi - yelling out “Celebrate life!” All these memories have flooded through me. Since then I have been taking in the beauty of people and the earth with renewed joy. This is where those of us who experienced Diane as friend and companion meet with her now - in the ecstatic joy of it all - the full catastrophe- a yes yes and yes! The adventure continues.
Diane was a real risk taker - a seductress, tempting us into joy and to commited love. That is her legacy - the call to continue the grand conversation of the heart. I close with a memory of my first encounter with Diane Sherwood.
In the dining area of a retreat facility a smiling woman with trickster light in her eyes asks if she could join me for lunch. Four days later we are still conversing about God, the earth, the people, the suffering, the beauty. We are on a rooftop in California dancing like two madwomen. Diane turns to me, her arms outstretched, and recites from Rumi.
(Coleman Barks translation)
This we have now
is not imagination.
This is not
grief or joy.
Not a judging state,
or an elation,
or sadness.
Those come
and go.
This is the presence
that doesn't.
It's dawn Husam,
here in the splendor of coral,
inside the
Friend, the simple truth
of what Hallaj said.
What else could human being want?
When grapes turn to wine,
they're wanting
this.
When the nightsky pours by,
it's really a crowd of beggars,
and they all want some of this!
This
that we are now
created the body, cell by cell,
like bee building honeycomb.
The human body and the universe
grew from this, not this
from the universe and human body.
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Then we sat in incredible silence.
Barbara Flaherty