Approaching grief is anchoring me in the here and now with all its paradoxes.
Currently, grief is like a rock in the pit of my stomach. It is dense, hard, and immovable as it sits heavily.
My tears wear away at this rock. My tears, the flow of my own water -especially the salt water -will perhaps, over time, wear this rock as beautifully as the rocks I see at the ocean. My tears engage with the sediment of the rock and a change is being made. I don’t know how long and in what direction the wear is going. But, it is transforming.
I also know that this rock is filled with space. The electrons inside the atoms that make up what we see are moving so quickly they give the impression of something solid. This is much like the bird dance photo I have attached. Meditation has become a gift that allows me to feel the spaciousness inside of this rock. Inside of this rock there is also movement. I notice little tiny vibrations in the stillness that let me know I am deeply alive. Spaciousness and movement exist within a form that appears dense.
It is such a paradox that humans can feel both deeply alive and such depth of hardness at the same time.
As I allow myself to feel the texture of the rock I can feel it soften at its edges. It has to do with me accepting the sensation of the rock and yet not relating to it as if it is totally unyielding. In accepting this density and weight I feel shock releasing and the hardness of the new reality on a deeper level. Death has become real.
My question is how to allow my tears to continue to flow; how to allow the vibrations of this precious life to pervade the spaciousness that fills us all? How do we all do this? Feel our grief and with it the extraordinary nature of life?