The way it is
Sometimes an author's way with words rips through my heart with such recognition and connection that I want to mouth each precious syllable slowly to feel it as it rolls over my soul, massaging the soreness and ache with beauty. This morning I read an exquisite blog post by Jeff Krasno-- I didn't even know his name until Stephanie forwarded me his newsletter. Her email sat unopened for several days until I was prompted to explore it. I've noticed that I have messengers in my life-- people I trust so immensely that I know they only send me things that have touched them AND connected them with me. Stephanie is in the liquefaction process of healing from cancer. We are both raw, split wide open like seed pods in a desert. I'm so grateful to have companionship on this journey into the heart of darkness and for the gifts shared along the way.
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This just broke me: "I wonder if there is any greater pain than burying a child. The confounding dis-order of never beholding the full expression of their being. Life’s singular canvas torn away mid-brushstroke, a work unfinished. A redemptive hope beyond your own life dashed. The horror of it leads us to forget that, in death, the pain is often mercifully transferred from those who suffer to those who remain." Fuck. Yes. And there are days I just have to lower my head, breathe through each moment, and forget, completely, about the future. What future? I can project myself out a few years and envision myself living a good life, a life truly altered by Hunter's death, but what I can't behold is how my heart will survive with a hole in it. How does that work?
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"Despite the profound love he shared with all of us, the pain was still unspeakable. We filled the chasm of his heart with love’s rushing water, but there remained a damned estuary where the land lay arid and fallow." Isn't that the most exquisite writing? I immediately thought about this idea that pain is unspeakable. I don't want my pain to remain damned or dammed (interesting the author chose the word damned as in condemned or cursed vs. dammed -- blocked or held back). I want to find a way to move the cleansing, healing capacity of love through my entire inner ecosystem. My pain will be spoken, painted, written, shared with every creative cell in my body. I want my pain to decompose so that it fertilizes the life that is hidden beneath the surface. I want to allow the pain to have its way with me, without resistance, without fear, without hesitation. I believe in the dynamic tension between holding on to the thread of the life once known and allowing myself to let go into the abyss with trust that this is the only way to fully be transformed.
The Way it is
by William Stafford
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.
PS. This amazing painted rock arrived on my doorstep last night-- painted by Bella Casarella. I have been holding it, crying, feeling so sad and so blessed by all the beauty created in the name of my son. I feel seen, held, broken yet gifted with the tools and support to put myself back together. Grateful. So grateful.
PPS. Please read this amazing blog post-- it's beautiful and relevant to this moment in history-- take a moment and be nourished and inspired by an amazing writer: https://www.onecommune.com/.../jeff-krasno-commusings...
