Posted on March 27, 2016
A personal exploration into grief, loss, and gratitude
“When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.”
from ‘On Love’, The Profit, Kahil Gibran
This is a photo of a drawing by Lori Ann Latremouille https://www.facebook.com/loriann.latremouille
Not long ago, I found myself at a resting place on journey to understand love. I had found companion like no other, a friend and lover with whom I could share anything and everything. He held me like no other, he accepted me, he sheltered me while I collapsed after years of longing, fighting, loneliness. The love I feel for this man still, is indescribable. I am trying to make sense of all that has happened. It is over now. He is gone so completely from my life, it is as if he had died. I am stunned, and groping through the mud of my devastation trying to make sense of it, trying to find the gift…trying to find the lesson.
During a walk on Filongley, Denman Island / Salish Sea in the company of a great friend, I walked back through time sifting through the rubble, the sand, the stones, the branches, looking for treasures: why do we cleave to each other? Why does the Love that brings so much joy, so much life, such richness, also tear us apart?
“As he is for your growth, so he is for your pruning.” Why is that cleaving so good, so good that we never want to let go?
This is a sacred time of year, a time of death and rebirth. Much has been torn asunder. What can be sourced form all this death? On my walk, I noticed the buds, the new life, the young eagle circling above, gulls feeding on herring row, the boys carving spears, and running hollering through the woods, life abundant emerges, doesn’t it? out of the hubris of death….and there, suddenly, at the edge of the clearing, a young dear, felled in its young-just-budding prime, just barely alive, and now already food for the circling young eagle above. Wow. “Spring is here, why doesn’t my heart go dancing?” by Nina Simone, plays now on my radio…Spring is here indeed, with all its newness, its excitement, its birth. But death is close by. I am trying to source gratitude for the gifts, even the dead baby dear.
We went in the cold rain to harvest the fruits of the land, nettles, clams and oysters. Always, paying attention to these gifts of food, we acknowledge that we are taking life, like the eagle, finding life and nourishment from death. Death-in-life, Life-in-death. Its the way it is, right?
I am so very grateful for this chance to walk, to wander, to sift through it all, to bear witness to the gifts, the sacrifices, the losses, the transmuting of life force. But I am struggling with it all, my friends, I really thought I had found a resting place. Is there ever a resting place? Why has this man, to whom I gave so much trust, so much energy, all of my love, and tenderness, and forgiveness; why has this man forsaken me? It may take me a decade to unravel this one, to grow from this destruction. Friends please be patient with me, I am hurting, I am in pain, so much pain…but I will find a way, I will keep looking, keep treasuring, keep sifting. I will continue to open my heart, though the North Winds have laid waste my garden.
#deathinlife #lifeindeath #wild #sift #griefandloss #personalhealingjourney