The Fertile Soil of our Grief

Last night I was murdered in my dream. An unknown man pulled me from the arms of my beloved and crushed my body as if it were a twig. I was dead.

I woke up in terror, my heart racing. As I calmed down and recalled the dream I was touched by how I was in some way deeply connected to my killer. I had felt moments before he killed me that he would do so, and some part of my being knew it had to be this way. I was the victim, he was the predator and yet we were unified. It could be no other way.

In the last days I have seen multiple dead animals in my daily walks, which is not the norm. Including a dead bird that I had moved off the street and covered with leaves a few days back that was again in the middle of the road.

Death feels all around. I am full of a sense of helplessness, hopelessness. I feel powerless. Impotent. A victim to a force so big that it just breaks me like a twig.

Then, in an instant the feeling turns to frustration then to rage and I become a killer inside. The predator. Righteous and indignant. I will crush out the violence, the hatred, the ignorance. Destroy it all just like twigs in my hands.

Then awareness arises…I see what is happening. All of it out there, it is all here inside of me. And it is inside every single one of us. But in the awareness, a choice: Follow this everlasting cycle of hell or drop into the depths of the heavy dark grief that is there waiting to be felt. The weight of the pain of endless cycles of violence, death, despair, destruction, on and on. It is so heavy I can only take it in limited doses. Otherwise it will break me. Like a twig.

But I will keep taking it in, taking it on, letting into my heart to be held. And I do it for every single life lost, heart broken, hope destroyed, for every child, for every mother, every father, every sister and every brother. I do it for you and for me. For our human family.

Join me. Lay down your weapons of words, opinions, righteousness, side-taking. May peace be nourished in the fertile soil of our grief. In our hearts.

Right here. Right now.