{"id":967,"date":"2020-08-07T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2020-08-07T04:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www-new2022.chezcora.com\/?p=967"},"modified":"2021-12-02T17:20:10","modified_gmt":"2021-12-02T22:20:10","slug":"ecrire-notre-epitaphe","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/lettre-mme-cora\/ecrire-notre-epitaphe\/","title":{"rendered":"Writing our own EPITAPH"},"content":{"rendered":"

L’aube a-t-elle jamais oublié de nous ramener la lumière chaque matin? Et la nuit d'assourdir le vacarme des villes et celui des casseroles dans nos maisons? Envers et contre tout, l’hiver s’est enfui, la neige a fondu et le printemps s’empresse de céder sa place à l’été magnifique, enjolivé de fleurs multicolores, d’arômes de fines herbes et de grillades délicieuses.<\/p>\n

Nos vies ont été bouleversées et pourtant, comme la sève dans les branches, le sang coule dans les veines de la vie. Et c’est notre valeur sûre, malgré le nombre affolant de vies ayant quitté l’ici-bas avant l’heure.<\/p>\n

En vain, en ce temps de quarantaine, j’ai fouillé toutes les pages des médias pour essayer de comprendre les agissements du malin virus. Et tout ce qui m’en reste c’est le nombre de morts partout sur le globe. Et je me dis que, nous sommes peut-être comme les feuilles des arbres, des générations d’hommes qui arrivent, fleurissent, contribuent et tombent alors que le tronc de l’arbre demeure toujours vivant (allusion à Homère dans l’Iliade, IXth<\/sup> siècle av. J.-C.). Tout comme les bourgeons qui deviennent des fruits transportant dans leurs chairs la précieuse semence des prochaines générations.<\/p>\n

Alors, toute seule dans ma caboche, je me demande qui pourrait bien avoir raison. Selon le poète de l’antiquité, la vie est un arbre qui ne cesse de renaître. Et, dans l’immensité du temps, l’existence de chacun d’entre nous pourrait faire partie d’une récolte saisonnière.<\/p>\n

                     <\/p>\n

Nous naissons tout petit bourgeon, sorti d’un ventre maternel, nous apprenons à marcher, à parler, à étudier, à travailler, à aimer et à nous reproduire. Ce faisant, nous arrivons à maturité. Et très tranquillement, l’assagissement des corps ralentit nos ardeurs, la lumière faiblit et le blanc hâtif de l’âge couronne nos têtes.<\/p>\n

Comme les feuilles d’automne lorsqu’arrive la dernière valse, nous tremblotons en dansant. Encore ivres de vie, nous nous accrochons aux branches glacées, aux souvenirs mémorables et aux êtres que nous avons aimés. Et lorsque s’arrête le bruit du monde, nos cœurs chavirent dans l’inconnu. Inanimées, nos chairs affadies s’entremêlent aux robes du vent, virevoltent et finalement plongent dans le ventre nourricier de la terre.<\/p>\n

Et ainsi, le cycle de la vie recommence. Sans le savoir, nous alimentons les racines des arbres pendant que là-haut, leurs branches squelettiques affrontent les assauts du vent, du froid, de la pluie et de la neige.<\/p>\n

Ce sont pourtant les racines qui gardent contact avec la charpente. Elles s’assurent que le sang de la vie coule dans les veines de l’arbre, du tronc sous la terre jusqu’aux plus fines rainures des branches les plus hautes.<\/p>\n

Et c’est peut-être ainsi que la vie se perpétue année après année, génération après génération. Siècle après siècle, les bras chargés de l’Univers déposent des cargaisons de bourgeons un peu partout sur la planète. Comme si le Créateur avait lancé une poignée de graines sur la terre au lieu de dire : « Que l’homme soit! »<\/p>\n

Bref, même si j’aime le perpétuel recommencement, je laisse chacun d’entre vous à sa propre théorie. Et à cet effet, je vous raconte ce qu’un ami, aussi vieux que moi,<\/p>\n

me suggérait l’autre jour.<\/p>\n

« Après tous ces mois de réflexion sur ta vie, ma chère Cora, tu devrais écrire ton épitaphe en conclusion. Ça constitue une belle recette de vie pour la suite des choses. Une recette pas du tout usuelle ni futile, et peut-être drôlement aidante pour arriver à vivre davantage en accord avec tes présentes convictions et non continuellement influencée par tes expériences passées, souvent négatives ou malheureuses. Prends le temps de te rappeler les meilleurs moments de ta vie, les moins bons et les pires aussi. Ensuite, reviens à aujourd’hui, à qui tu es vraiment, à ce que tu as vraiment à cœur et à ce que tu aimerais que tes enfants se souviennent de toi. »<\/p>\n

Je vous transmets donc la recette dans mes propres mots.<\/p>\n

L’exercice consiste à écrire votre ÉPITAPHE.<\/p>\n

Pour ce faire, utilisez quelques mots de votre cru, une citation qui vous touche, un proverbe qui vous définit; tout ce qui, en quelques mots, vous représente le mieux.<\/p>\n

Cet exercice vous permettra un moment d’introspection et aussi une réflexion sur la nouvelle ligne directrice du reste de votre vie. Votre épitaphe dira brièvement qui vous êtes aujourd’hui et surtout quelle trace de vous-même vous souhaitez laisser dans le souvenir des autres.<\/p>\n

L’ultime bienfait est aussi de vivre votre épitaphe de votre vivant. Et pour ce faire, demandez-vous comment vous pourriez incarner davantage la nouvelle courte phrase vous définissant.<\/p>\n

Pour vous aider, voici l’épitaphe que j’ai moi-même écrite quelques jours après le précieux conseil de cet ami.<\/p>\n

-----------------------------<\/p>\n

          CORA MUSSELY<\/p>\n

« Heureuse, je quitte l’ici-bas
\n      usée jusqu’à la corde. »<\/p>\n

               1947-2047<\/p>\n

-----------------------------<\/p>\n

Ma ligne directrice devenant pour moi :<\/p>\n

1) cultiver le bonheur<\/p>\n

2) épuiser tous mes talents<\/p>\n

3) et vivre le plus longtemps possible<\/p>\n

        ❤️<\/p>\n

      Cora<\/p>\n

Pst : Allez-y, essayez-vous. Pendant le confinement, vous avez eu beaucoup de temps pour réfléchir. Et ça fait tellement de bien de faire le ménage dans sa tête.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

L’aube a-t-elle jamais oublié de nous ramener la lumière chaque matin? Et la nuit […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":973,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-967","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lettre-mme-cora"],"acf":{"img_en":null,"contenu_en":"

Has the dawn ever forgotten to bring us light each morning? Has the night ever failed to muffle the clanging of the city and the pots in our homes? Despite all resistance, winter departs, the snow melts and spring hastens to make way for the fullness of summer, dressed in colourful flowers with aromas of fine herb and delicious grilled fare. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our lives have been turned upside down, and yet, like the sap in tree branches, blood runs through life’s veins. It’s an immutable truth, despite the alarming number of lives that have been taken too early. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I have scoured the news in vain during quarantine to try and understand the workings of this nasty virus. And I’ll that I’ve taken away is the number of deaths that have occurred around the world. And I say to myself that perhaps we are, like the leaves on a tree, generations of people who appear one after another, bloom, contribute and then fall, while the trunk of tree remains alive (reference to Homer’s Iliad<\/i>, 9th<\/sup> century BC). Just like the buds that become fruit that contain within them the precious seeds of future generations.   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alone in my head, I wonder who’s right. According to the Ancient Greet poet, life is a tree that is constantly reborn. And, in the vastness of time, every human existence is part of a seasonal harvest. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We are born as tiny buds from a mother’s womb, we learn to walk, talk, study, work, love and reproduce. By then, we reach maturity. And very gently, the body mellows and tempers our passions, the light fades and age hurries to crown our heads in white. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like autumn leaves at the last waltz, we tremble and lurch as we dance. Still drunk with life, we hang onto ice-encased branches, to bright memories and to all those we have loved. And when the world falls silent, our hearts capsize into the unknown. Inanimate, our weakened flesh intertwines with the wind’s robes and twirls, to finally plunge into the Earth’s dark belly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The cycle of life begins all over again. Without knowing it, we nourish the trees’ roots as their skeletal arms above endure the assault from the wind, the cold, the rain and the snow. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yet the roots maintain in contact with the arboreal frame. They ensure that the life blood runs in its veins, from the trunk hidden in the ground to the finest grooves in the branches at its top. And perhaps this is how life continues from one year to the next, generation after generation. Over the centuries, the Universe discharges its heavy load of buds onto the planet. As if the Great Creator, instead of declaring “Let us make man,” scattered a handful of seeds over the earth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I may embrace this idea of eternal renewal, but I will let each of you come to your own theory. With this in mind, I will share with you what a friend, in his autumnal years like me, told me the other day. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

“After all these months spent reflecting on your life, my dear Cora, you should conclude by composing your epitaph. It’s a wonderful life recipe to set the next stage. A recipe that is unique, purposeful and perhaps will even in some strange way allow you to live more in harmony with your present beliefs and to let go of your past experiences that were often negative and unhappy. <\/p>\n\n

Take the time to remember the best moments of your life, the not so good and the worst. <\/p>\n\n

Then, return to present, to the person you truly are, to what you really hold dear and to what you want your children to remember of you.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Here is this recipe in my own words. <\/p>\n\n

The exercise is to write your own EPITAPH. <\/p>\n\n

In your own words or using a quote that is meaningful to you, a proverb that describes you – anything that accurately sums up who you are in a few words. <\/p>\n\n

This exercise is a moment to turn inwards and seek a new North Star to guide you for the remainder of your life. This brief epitaph expresses who you are today, and especially the final imprint you want to leave in the memories of others. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ultimate benefit is that you can live by this epitaph while you are still alive. Ask yourself in what ways you can embody this succinct self-description even more. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

To help you, here is my epitaph, composed a few days after receiving this great advice from my friend. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

----------------------------<\/p>\n\n

         CORA MUSSELY<\/p>\n\n

“I leave this world happy.<\/p>\n\n

    Worn to the bone.” <\/p>\n\n

1947-2047<\/p>\n\n

-----------------------------<\/p>\n\n

From here on, I will be guided by these personal maxims:<\/p>\n\n

1) Cultivate happiness.<\/p>\n\n

2) Exhaust all my talents.<\/p>\n\n

3) Live as long as possible. <\/p>\n\n

        ❤️<\/p>\n\n

      Cora<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Psst: Give it a try. During confinement, you’ve had time to think. And it does a world of good to do a little housecleaning in your head. <\/p>"},"yoast_head":"\n\u00c9crire notre \u00c9PITAPHE – Cora D\u00e9jeuners et d\u00eeners<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/mme-coras-letter\/ecrire-notre-epitaphe\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"\u00c9crire notre \u00c9PITAPHE – Cora D\u00e9jeuners et d\u00eeners\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"L’aube a-t-elle jamais oublié de nous ramener la lumière chaque matin? 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