ramblings on pain and grief…
My second cousin left the world through suicide a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t know him well, but he was such a sweet baby, a sweet teenager, a sweet and kind young man, though he struggled with anger and depression for a large part of his life. His family misses him. I see their pain on social media, and I start to feel it, but don’t feel that it is mine to feel.
A friend’s grandfather declined in health, rapidly, and passed away.
My friend’s boyfriend lost his mom this week, after watching her suffer from cancer.
A friend’s daughter was hurt and they both have to cope with the pain.
A friend learned that one of her childhood abusers died.
A friend hit an elk, a dangerous car accident. She is physically fine, but she is shaken up and grieving her part in the loss of life.
Genocide continues around the world: Palestine, Congo, Sudan. The ongoing cultural genocide of indigenous peoples everywhere, including in the United States.
We continue to abuse our planet and mistreat each other.
Poverty exists around the world. People go hungry and cold. People go without medical care. People go without, and without, and without.
I feel small and selfish because I’m promoting my writing workshops and yoga classes. I’m feeling proud of myself for my part in organizing a successful mindfulness retreat.
I’m feeling some shame because I’ve been writing love poems. I’ve been writing about childhood, adolescent, and adulthood wounds. I’ve been wishing for more connection, more time with friends, more intimacy, when, around the world, people are grateful to be living, still, hoping to find the bodies of their loved ones under rubble, hoping they won’t become bodies under rubble, hoping they can find food to eat and water to clean wounds.
I miss the days of numbness, before I unwalled my heart.
I fear those days of numbness, returning, as I slip into depression.
I want the pain and suffering to stop.
I do not want to stop feeling the pain and suffering as long as it continues.
I want the massive gaps between us to close, for every last one of us to have our needs met, I want every to be released from the fear
of losing their families
of war
of occupation
of oppression
of starvation
of disease
of climate crisis
I want to be free of fear of life
I am a pit of wanting, wanting, wanting… I start to feel numb to the wanting. So many turn away from the pain. We are told not to focus on it, to take care of our mental health. To focus on what we can do, and turn away from the rest, to not focus… but that, I’ve never learned how to do, not without going numb.
I don’t recommend going numb. It’s hard to get out of that place.
You have to take a break, sometimes, and remember what’s still beautiful. You have to listen to music, take a walk and feel the weather on your skin, whether that’s sun, or rain, or cold wind. You have to pet a dog or cat, or talk to a magpie as it perches in a tree above. You have to look up at the stars, at the clouds, at the moon.
You have to stay sensitive, to feel the beauty.
To feel the beauty, you have to let the grief in, too.
