Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Good Grief


     A friend died last week, the first cold of the season jumped into my bed and Fall hit with a leaf hailstorm.  Somewhere in there I remembered I can't fix everything and on some days I can't fix anything.  The months following Summer are according to Chinese Medicine about the lungs and the large intestine and the corresponding emotion is grief.  

          A wailing commences.

It's interesting that Fall is also the time of year trees shed their leaves like raging teardrops and children head off to school, older ones glimpsing childhood homes in the rear view mirror, only to return on holidays.  The season shatters dull greens of August with trumpeting oranges and yellows.  Days shockingly scream vivid color, while mom's, dad's and anyone paying attention howl at the moon in agony.

     A wailing circles and settles in deep.

In Dream Land, visions of relationships past, uncurl from a 3 season nap, inviting one in to explore.  There are those who were wounded or bystanders in the shrapnel parade, others that threw daggered words and swift kicks of pain.  The march of memories includes Death toe stepping alongside, unresolved, unrequited and unbearable.

     An anguished wail begs for release.

It is the Season of Grief.  An emotion that carries elements of all the others, love, hate, jealousy, anger, passion, fear, guilt, joy, shock and hope, dancing together beneath an umbrella of tears.  We grieve what we had and lost, what we never had and never will, what we cannot do and what we cannot stop.  We grieve humans and adored pets, we weep for those we love and those we hate, while passionately flipping off The Universe for What IS.

     An endless wail has a beginning and an end.

Last leaves reluctantly letting go announce Fall passing. The wild torment of grief has unleashed a built in component that breathes life into life. Anguish directed at the stars is backed by a deep well of creativity, lust, love and desire. Slipping from the ashes passion unfurls announcing rebirth.  From this place a stumbling wailing human is able to begin again.

     It is the time of letting go and moving on.

The seasons carry humans along a cyclical path of moments to ponder and possibility of release from old deaths.  Hidden under the annual repetition is the gift of acceptance. Inner wisdom senses this to be a lighter way to live.  Passion bubbles to the surface, reaching for the night sky and resolutely waving hello.



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