Out of the darkness comes the light...or is it in light there is no darkness...or get out of the way you are standing in the light...or you can only see the shadow when your back is turned to the light...or something like that. I don't know for sure but I certainly have been casting shadows. It is interesting, this game of life and our propensity to take it so damn seriously. Perhaps it just IS. Perhaps it isn't as ripe with deep significance necessitating big brain ponderings late into the night. Perhaps.
Grief is defined as a deep or intense sorrow. I have been thinking a lot about grief, about it's wide and sticky reach, about the watery quality of it's absorption and the agonizing effort of swimming to shore. Intense sorrow happens. It is a part of life. Yet we press against it. We try to eradicate it. How? We encapsulate our grief in a story, thus effectively removing us from the immediacy of the pain. The mind promises salvation and begins to tell a story, over and over and over. We listen to the inner ramblings, the constant diatribe, the neurotic attempt to avoid the experience. When someone is hurting we listen to their story, we talk about it, we recount our own story, but we certainly don't jump in the waters of sadness, instead we sit on the bank of our familiar longing. Once, when I was floundering in deep grief, my youngest brother knelt next to me and held me for over an hour. He didn't speak. He didn't commiserate. He just jumped in the
Comments