They are merely way-stations on my Path to a brand New Normal. There are many Oasis' on this Path. So, I stop. Sit awhile. Breathe....I take a moment to breathe in this new air. And realize it is ok if I re-member..... It is in the re-membering that I begin to see and feel and hear and touch and taste and know the possibility of goodness in the new world of New Normals.
I am in the Sacred Space of re-membering my Beloved Charles Manning, Jr. I have not wanted to share such personal thoughts not because I want to hide them but because the pain, sometimes, is oh so very deep; much deeper than I ever expected it to be. In this Sacred Space, revelations and (r)evolutions spring forth from what I thought was a dry well. As rain drops from my eyes, I surrender to the flood waters that pour forth. The well is overflowing. The waters from my Soul are refreshing to feel on the parched pores of my face. These showers are a welcomed relief.
In recent days, I have declared my willingness to be 100% invested in this new physical place that seems to help in the acceptance of the New Normal that grief brings. I so understand why some people simply want to run away from all that is familiar when the pain of grief seems to be too much to bear. While there really is no hiding place, being in a different local with unfamiliar stores, unfamiliar language, and unfamiliar people who are unfamiliar with your story, somehow, all this unfamiliarity is comforting. I find it much easier to step into the New Normal as I begin to create a new path out of my jungle of sorrow. Oh, there are times I miss Him and my other beloved ancestors immensely. But something happens in the heat of the day and stillness of the night in this unfamiliar place that allows the pain to simply dissipate more evenly without the jagged edges of familiarity.
So, I will walk through this valley of tears and hold my heart closer than ever, as another emotion of sadness quakes and rolls while waves of ocean-filled eyes blur my vision of the soft welcoming shore just a sigh away. I will sit on the ledge of one of the jagged edges of familiarity and wait. I wait for more deep gentle warm breath breezes to chase away the last quiver of my sobbing quakes. As the oceans in my eyes recede and the residue of the bittersweet salt streaks my face, I breathe deep, one more time, and look to the mountains of possibilities that lay ahead.
No, grief and grieving are not destinations. In this Sacred Space, they are old friends standing on either side of me, holding my hands. They are my Oasis; my resting place; my filling up place; my letting go place; my starting over place. They are beautifully woven baskets designed to hold me, for just a little while, until I can stand on my own again.They are my calling cards introducing me to new familiarities and a new life in my New Promised Normal-land.
And So It Is!
Art by Wayson Wight.com