Good morning. Today is Tuesday, July 22, 2025. I’m out on my morning walk. It’s a warm one, probably already in the low 80s, but a mild breeze is a welcome relief. As I walk, I’m greeted by a flock of blackbirds. I’ve always been fascinated by crows—their intelligence and the old stories about them. They’re known as “friend people,” and legends say that if you befriend a crow, they’ll bring you little presents they find. I’ve always loved the idea of a friendship with a crow. If I lived out in nature, I’d certainly try to make one.
On this morning’s walk, I’ve been contemplating a quote by Louise Erdrich from her book The Painted Drum:
“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could.”
This quote and its powerful metaphor of the apples resonated with me. The idea of apples falling, their sweetness uneaten, isn’t a tragedy. Perhaps it’s a blessing—they return to the earth, their seeds creating new life. It’s a beautiful way to think about the moments in life that break us.
Life’s Breaking Moments
The line “life will break you” brought me back to my own journey. As a child, I was adopted at the age of three. It meant that at some point, my birth parents, likely a struggling single mother with limited resources, had to make the difficult decision to give my sister and me up. That moment—being given away by the very people you rely on—was a breaking point, a source of deep-seated confusion and pain for many years. Despite the beautiful life my adoptive parents, LB and Denise Lowry, gave me, that sense of loss lingered. It was only much later that I could begin to understand the circumstances that led to that decision, and in that understanding, I found a measure of peace.
My heart was broken again by my first true love, Myra. I was so young and convinced we were meant to be. Of course, looking back, I realize that nobody should probably marry their first love, but it still hurt deeply. I was sad for years, but life, as it always does, went on.
Then came the end of my marriage to Mary Ann. When she became sick and her ability to work and be a full partner in our relationship diminished, I remember praying for her suffering to end. The pain was unbearable, and the eventual divorce left me with a feeling of profound emptiness, a time in my life when I truly didn’t care if I lived or died.
There have been other, smaller hurts, too—the sting of being passed over for a promotion, the sting of feeling rejected by friends who couldn’t accept my liberal views and my support for the LGBTQ community. These slights, while painful, taught me that while we can’t be protected from life’s hurts, we can choose how we respond.
The Reason We’re Here
Erdrich’s quote continues, “You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart.” This feels so true. I am grateful to have loved and been loved by three incredible women in my life. First, my mother, Denise, who loved me unconditionally. Though we were very different people, she gave me a foundation of love that I continue to appreciate more and more as I grow older.
Then, there was my first wife, Mary Ann. We both came into the marriage with childhood wounds and, lacking the tools to love ourselves, we couldn’t fully love each other. We left marks on one another, but we also shared a life. It was a painful, but ultimately, a necessary experience that taught me a great deal about myself.
Now, I am so fortunate to have my relationship with Carol Lou, or Cary. We love each other deeply and support one another through life’s challenges. We both feel so fortunate to have found a relationship where we feel truly seen, cherished, and cared for. This experience of shared love has made me believe that this is indeed why we’re here—to love, to learn, and to grow in compassion.
I’ve come to believe that our purpose is to discover who we are, to connect with the deep, abiding presence that is our true self, and to live from a place of love and compassion. This journey of discovery, of learning to love ourselves and others, is what gives our lives meaning.
Tasting the Sweetness
The idea of being “swallowed up” by life also resonates deeply with me. I want to live my life so fully that when it’s my time to go, I’m completely used up. I want to have given all I have to give to the world and to the people I love.
The quote ends with the image of apples falling and the command to remind ourselves that we “tasted as many as you could.” I’ve felt a sense of betrayal and hurt lately, watching the political climate and feeling a sense of loss for the country and institutions I once believed in. These feelings are the fallen apples—the bitter moments. But when I look at my life as a whole, I’ve tasted so much sweetness. I’ve loved, I’ve learned, I’ve experienced so much joy. The sour moments taught me who I am and what I want to become.
I’ve been fortunate to taste the sweetness of many apples, and for that, I am so grateful. And maybe, just maybe, some of the things I’ve done and the love I’ve given will be like a sweet apple for someone else to taste.
That’s enough for today. Thank you for listening to my morning meditation.
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