It’s been months since I’ve written and I wish I could have been able to express what I was feeling. I confess, my grief just wouldn’t allow me to do much else but ponder, ruminate, and contemplate…the desolation of nothingness and nowhere. I just didn’t have any words or ideas to communicate. My spirit had folded in on itself and I was working on putting one foot in front of the other, and mimicking some version of myself.
Mourning is an all-consuming process and it refused to ebb and flow on my command so finally I surrendered to melancholy and sorrow. I gave myself permission to activate my copilot, but inside my mind, I vacillated between frenzied hysteria and eerie, lonely silence.
For me grief reminded me of swimming in the ocean when I as a kid. I would dare myself to swim out as far as I could, where the water was dark and cold. My teeth would chatter and my skin would wrinkle and prune and with my eyes wide open, I would submerge my head under the mysterious swirling black water and despite the burning from the briny depths of the gauzy green sea, I would open my eyes. Under the misty water, the silence was soothing, aquatic life floated by seemingly oblivious to my anguished presence. There are no human sounds, emotions are muted, distorted and insignificant. Looking up at the sky through the kaleidoscope of the foamy waves, the sun can be seen floating, glittery and hazily in the distance like a diamond. I felt removed and insulated from life.
And just like when I was a kid, the need for air would overcome me, and with my lungs bursting, I would be forced, gasping and scrambling back to the surface. I realize now that grief had clung to my skin, my cells and my heart, and swimming in the ocean allowed the water which had blanked, and for a while sustained me, began to recede.
When I emerged this time, I found I no longer wished for the fickle darkness of the enigmatic ocean. I decided instead, to let the wind and brilliant sunlight soothe my soul and heal my grief laden spirit. It allowed me to release myself from the riptide of grief that had consumed me.
So with renewed vigor, I am swimming back to shore and to life with renewed energy. That’s the magic of the ocean. Despite its beauty, it can be treacherous and desolate. But if I relax, surrender and float, it’s like a beacon that always leads me home.
Happy New Year All,
Sorry for being out of circulation so long. My life has moved faster than the speed of light and I’ve neglected the creative side of my spirit at my own peril. Creativity keeps me balanced and zen, for lack of a better word, so I’ve felt a sense of loss at losing my benchmark and anchor in the world.
I started working at a local newspaper helping out in the Classified Department. This soon morphed into managing and training other people in Classifieds. My daily inner struggle is to remind myself to not take on more work than I can handle given the rest of the my life’s expectations and obligations. As you can see, to some degree I have failed but hope springs eternal.
I rarely make New Year’s Resolutions but this year I will make an exception. I vow to work harder at working less. Tell me working mothers, is that even possible? I have always admired working mothers, as my mother was a single working mother, but my appreciation for their infinite juggling skills is limitless! Not even just the self adjustment necessary for switching multiple hats in a single bound but doing it with grace, kindness, and patience. A lot of patience. I doff my cap to the working mothers in this world for you’ve given a whole new meaning to the grossly overused word of Multitasking!
This year, I resolve to carve out more guilt-free time for myself, my writing and photography. I declare here and now to do frivolous, nonsensical, and whimsical things to enrich and expand my life’s view, like take Italian or take up fencing. Who knows? Just finding the time and space to revel in my imagination, hopes, and dreams for the future has to be equally as important as succeeding at work.
Happy 2016 and may all our dreams come true!
“Wild Moon Woman
You were not made to be tamed.
You are an earthquake shaking loose
everything that is not Soul.
Shake Woman Shake!!” elyse morgan
My photos of the Lunar eclipse.
Summer has flown by and yet there were achingly slow moments where time seemed to stand still.
The summer was filled with our usual flurry of activities that left us exhausted, drained and planning our next day’s adventure with hopeful anticipation. There were camps, counselor-in-training camps, swimming, scouts, over nights, island living, lunches, brunches, gardens, library trips, movies and baseball which morphed effortlessly into football as we drove from one event packed event to the other.
We got a puppy, because life just didn’t seem complete or full without the added unconditional love of our beautiful dog, Bella Luna, “beautiful moon.” The boys have been asking for years and I succumbed to the pleas and relented. Turns out Bella is the kindest, gentlest, dog ever born. Her beautiful brown eyes smile gratefully as she settles into her new home with not one but two boys who lavish her with praise, devotion, and affection. Ahh, the life.
It truly has been a memorable and wonderful summer with a view from the mountain top of happiness that I will remember and treasure. I am blessed.
Still, the glory of the summer was interrupted by the sorrow and grief of losing my 35 year old cousin, Drucilla. My beloved Aunt Maureen, has now lost both of her children, a sorrow no parent wishes to contemplate let alone discuss. A waking nightmare.
I know there are no words to say. No comfort that will ease the hellish and unrelenting despair that has seeped into the crevices of her spirit and etched itself on her face and in her skin. Drucilla’s young children are dazed and lost in a land where solace has no home, no name. Their life’s tapestry, woven since their births, has been forever altered, splintered and shattered into millions of pieces and life will forever be defined as “before and after.”
The summer’s joy for all of us will be shadowed by the finality of her death. While the summer peaks offered magnificent views and gratitude in abundance, the valleys remind us that the “woods are dark and deep,” and traversing the terrain of heartbreak and grief requires humble acceptance that life is a balancing act. Nimbly moving through joy and pain with alacrity and I pray, Grace.
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