Grief

It may not be what you think it is...

There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep and still be counted as warriors. Adrienne Rich

There are so many things we seek in a relationship- love, humor, a good ear, a loving commitment to not rescue. I am blessed with friends who think that 2 hours of wiping snot on their jeans while listening to Stephen Jenkinson and Gregory Hoskins weave their brocade of death and grief is a rollicking good Friday night out in the big city. Friends who will spend their glorious Sunday morning talking about dying parents, mourning friends and lost opportunities.

Grief is always with us, but especially in autumn. It is, in fact, the healthy manifestation of the metal element. But as modern humans with squidgy language, it bears defining. Because grief isn’t sadness. It isn’t that feeling that I first felt as a little kid, when my best friend went home and suddenly there was a gaping hole where my heart used to be. Rather it is a fullness, a swelling in the chest experienced when watching a vermilion sunset or walking into a glorious cathedral. Grief is both connection and loss. We cannot grieve for anything that we have not already experienced connection with.

Modern humans don’t like grief. It distracts from the happy happy happy eternal summer soundtrack we’ve adopted. Or been sold. You can make a good case for both…Grief is descending, it bears down from above and reminds us simultaneously that we walk this road alone and thank goodness there are friends and allies along the way.

In my line of work, the folks who still think it’s summer are struggling. They mention the decrease of light, how they’re not ready for winter.

Of course you’re not bloody ready for winter. It isn’t winter yet. The processional that is autumn prepares us for the next season…

So much of pathology is just the refusal of the ‘is’.

There are many ways to experience the fullness of grief and the glory of autumn that don’t include losing a loved one. You could go for a walk in the woods. Note that if you bilocate yourself via earbuds, the internet and your favorite podcast, I cannot take responsibility for where you land. You could dive into the work of Stephen Jenkinson via his books, the documentary Griefwalker or even better, treat yourself to a Night of Grief and Mystery Doesn’t that sound like fun? I personally recommend having a nice scarf to snot into, but apparently there is this stuff called Kleenex.

Oh, the wrenching loveliness
Of my crooked flight
The moist morning path
From the door to the car
That takes me away and back again
The truth intact again:

That I am a shadow

Oh, the jarring tenderness
Shown me from all points
I am grateful for it all
For every cut, every fall

I am a shadow
I am a shadow
I am a shadow you will dance with
I am the theory
And the practice

Oh the wrenching loveliness
Of my crooked flight
The moist morning path
From the dark to the light
I am grateful for it all
For every cut, for every fall.

I am a shadow
I am a shadow
I am the shadow you will dance with
I am the theory
And the practice
Of Love.

Lyrics from The Shadow by Gregory Hoskins