Gregory “Greg” Leonard Brodsky OBITUARY

Gregory “Greg” Leonard Brodsky OBITUARY

Stillness by Greg BrodskySome part of me keeps pretending to exist by filling my head with noise. It never stops talking or singing songs with messages mostly, like, “Let It Be,” and “It’s a Jungle Out There.” It runs a dialog about what I want to say to somebody, a little rehearsal in my auditory lobe that willdo what? I tried a meditation tool described by Pema Chodron in her great book, When Things Fall Apart. Simply name the thing as it passes through your mind and quietly slip back into your mediation. After several tries, the messages didn’t stop, but they became a lot quieter. My meditations were typically active: a round of T’ai Chi form, some puttering, or gardening while tracking my breath giving me new opportunities to focus on the moment. I had been using this simple method for a few days and while I was picking up leaves, I heard that voice in me start into a little melody. I said to myself silently, “Singing.” It happened again and again with only a few moments of quiet in between. Then I spoke to myselfstill silentlyand explored the whole idea of becoming quiet inside. Appreciating how difficult it was to stop the chatter, I realized that this part of me controlled my whole experience by diverting me in one way or another to pay attention to it. I say “it” but it is me, and I realized that this is a part of me that helps me hold together my personality, my identity. By filling my head with this incessant sound track, that part of me was keeping me from the inner quiet I needed to allow something truly new to emerge within me. It occurred to me that moving into the next developmental step of my life couldn’t happen as long as this part of me remained in control. For a moment, just a moment, that part of me stopped chattering, and I realized how afraid he is. Afraid of no longer being, of losing his job. No longer having a purpose. Like a child walking past a cemetery, afraid of ghosts, trying to whistle a happy tune to keep his courage up. I then felt my fear of no longer existing, of dying. And I grew still. Greg passed away at home holding hands with Ching, his beloved of 46 years. He was preceded in death by his mother Ann Blacher and father Samuel Brodsky. Family survivors include his wife Ching B. Brodsky, sons Sasha, Osha, and Galen Brodsky, brother Fred and sister-in-law Darla Brodsky. From our hearts to yours, “Breathe, relax, stay present.”