Sunday, September 25, 2022
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Mary Miller. Explorer. from Sheila Galloway
I met Mary at the Penn Mindfulness programs, in Ralston house, I think in 2014. We went to a monthly program called “Deepening Connections” and Mary struck me with her willingness to speak so honestly and with humour about her experiences and her spiritual quests. In those sessions, we would break up into small groups to talk, and we also met as small groups in people’s homes between the main meetings. Eventually I began hosting those small groups in my home, which was rewarding but also nerve racking. More and more I saw Mary’s transparency and thoughtfulness, and also her resistance to people’s efforts to cast her as the wise older one who had it all worked out. Her beatific face and smile certainly might give the impression she was enlightened, and in the non-Buddhist sense she certainly was; but she maintained that “beginner’s mind” and openness to change. We began to see each other socially, meeting for example for dinner at the Iron Hill Brewery, where she’d arrived in her car with the distinctive license plate “Esse”, to be, which was typically clever, and we’d talk a lot, and giggle a lot. I remember her hilarious reaction to my giving her a bag from Trader Joe’s called “Inner Peaze” which she loved (dried, salted peapods). Our other giggle was after consuming fat crab cakes and large glasses of wine, we’d allow ourselves dessert, and it seemed the waiters vied to bring the largest bowls of chocolate chip cookie dough which we ate with relish. I loved how Mary integrated mindfulness meditation so naturally into her life, thinking hard all the while about the implications for her Christian Faith and integrating them. She really immersed herself in retreats, the Compassion program, everything available to help her quest for equanimity in the face of her illness and she met everything head on, energetically quizzing her doctors and putting so much energy into the right mix of work, diet, rest and exercise to make sure she stayed well in the face of her myelodysplastic disease.
Mary often spoke of the stultifying culture for women in which she grew up, with submissiveness and politesse required at all times, and of how things were simply not spoken about in her family. It was essential to her being that she ultimately had the courage and fortitude to pursue an academic degree, and develop a life in social work and counselling, and community service.
One of the amazing experiences we had together was an evening at Penn listening to Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche, drawn into the beautiful circle and the seemingly simple, strength and compassion of the man.
Mary discovered the artist Hilma af Klint, an innovative Swedish woman who invented ways of creating abstract paintings before people like Mondrian and Kandinsky, but of course didn’t get the credit for that at the time. With a friend Lisa, we ventured on the train up to New York City in the spring of 2019 to the Guggenheim to see a fabulous exhibition of Hilma af Klint painting, and Mary was fascinated by the mix of artistic accomplishment and the scientific (medical illustration) and mystical beliefs and influences of Hilma’s life as well as the frustrations of being a women ahead of her time (1862 –1944). Mary had far more stamina than I had and wanted to immerse herself in every detail. It was one of many unforgettable days we spent together.
At one point we realized she had lived next door to the Bokelmans: Del Bokelman was head of the department in which I worked at Merck Sharpe and Dohme, for the first part of my career there. We also found out a connection in that I’d long been a supporter of Laurel House, the support system for people subject to domestic abuse and this was a crucial part of Mary’s work, as they established Nicole’s Place in Huntingdon Valley. She invited me to a day of talks and community discussion at Bryn Athyn- another of the gifts Mary gave me of broadening, rewarding and thought- provoking experiences.
After her frightening diagnosis with atrial fibrillation, and then her stroke, she seemed not to mourn the loss of her home and her move to new beginnings in the apartment, but pragmatically accepted it was necessary, and worked so hard at regaining her physical and mental strength. She had decided to approach it all with curiosity- just how much could she accomplish. At 80- ish she was the poster child of the rehab center, who allowed her into programs normally intended for much younger people. She was astonishing. I loved visiting her for cups of tea, meditation, talk of books, and walks in the local park, where I also had the privilege of meeting Stuart who would join her for walks. We went up a few times to her old haunts in Peace Valley to walk along Lake Galena, in awe of blue herons and the beautiful foliage and sparkling lake. I heard a lot about her three fine sons, and saw the evidence of the care George and his wife Christine were providing, including quantities of good food. Mary’s enjoyment of just walking a few blocks to the corner coffee shop for a bagel and coffee so beautifully balanced the lovely conversations we had about everything from murder mysteries to John O’Donohoe and John Kabat-Zinn, to funny stories about the family dogs and her kids.
The pandemic disrupted life, and I will forever be sad for the opportunities lost of time with Mary as I somehow allowed time to drift by without seeing her these past many months. I am full of gratitude for the light and fun and beauty and love Mary brought into my life. Without her I would have been that much less.
