GRATITUDE and GRIEF

"Grief is praise, because it is the natural way love honors what it misses."
Martin Prechtel

"... grief is essential in order to integrate on a deep level the reality of the situation we face. Otherwise it remains ... theoretical."
Michael Mielke

Jan Rudestam

Jan Rudestam

Jan Rudestam

SANGHA
 
Thank you for this space,
to be ourselves,
together.
Thank you for the silence
to hear our individual hearts
beat, together.
Thank you for the listening
that arises from Here.
 
Thank you for this space
to allow tears
of grief to gather 
with tears of joy and
flow together
in this ocean of our being.
 
Thank us for holding this
Space together.
Thank us for letting go of judgment,
dissolving barriers, opening up,
so, there is a safe place
for all, Here.
 
Here together
there is even space
for the mountains, the rivers,
and the sunrise too.
Here is a place for all
to let worry, and doubt, swirl
with courage and faith, in the wind’s
breath of change.
 
Thanks to the earth
who has provided this place,
this space to be held,
and to hold
Thanks to those who walked
here before us
May they embrace us too
as we learn what it means to be
Here Together.

Suzy Loeffler

Outside of Us
 
What does it mean to be out of body?
Out of mind?
Outside in the cool January air?
Outside in the fog?

There are lots of judgements about out:
outsider, outlander, out in the open is good,
out of the closet is dangerous.
Nothing like an out of mind experience to really shake things up
and scare your neighbors.
Outside in the wilderness searching for nurture, validation
or some deeper truth that refuses to reveal itself indoors.
Out of bounds and over the line,
Way outside the so-called normal a new normal awaits.
Will it be hunger, violence, and early death in hot smoke-filled air?
Or will it be a great disillusionment, when all conditioning unravels,
and our hearts sing together?

Stuck                It’s coming whether we will or not
Stop                 The reefs are dying fast
Judgement      The glaciers faster
Hate                 After millions of years, human life and glacial life
                         arriving at a similar timeframe
Don’t listen     Does this symbolize a nearing of the end of human history?
Don’t believe  I’ll just have to sit here

You never will, you are broken, powerless                                        
Forget it, don’t try, hide instead   
                                            
It is imperative      Get outside!
Relish slanting January sun in my hair
With my feet resting
On living soil, rocky and brownish tan
Covering unseen roots and offering a playground to an ant
One earth, one now, one us.

Sarah Mussulman

Jan Rudestam

Jan Rudestam

Kirsten Rudestam

Two Types of Grief
 
One: Ugly pus-filled old dirty wound grief
Grief is not eating, not singing
Grief is a dull stifled ache  
Grief is failure to notice purple dawn sky scattered with quilt clouds
Grief is manipulation, begging for attention, a type of showing-off And not-grief is failure – healthy people grieve
 
Two: Clean incision grief
Grief is stomach-hurting breathless snotty tears
Grief is a wall and occasionally I chink out a brick and peek through
Grief is a cave,  
deep
private
infinite
Where a sub-terrestrial river nourishes the roots of my tree

Sarah Mussulman

Charlie Turner

Jan Rudestam

Charlie Turner

Jan Rudestam

Jan Rudestam

River 

What  if I told you
 
A river of goodness flows deep inside me, 
Within the walls of a steep-sided canyon where a riot of lush greenness clings
And wild birds make their homes, filling tight spaces with raucous cries
Belonging to this particular place – just as they belong to each other?
My own Nile, flooding my heart each winter and restoring rich fertile soil
for each sunny summer day to reclaim. 
 
Would you scorn me for being tender and vulnerable?        Silly and illogical?
Would you deride me for believing that all beings are fundamentally and
deeply connected, a natural product of four billion years on Earth – 
blasting me with a contempt so sharp and so hot it wrings all the water from my skin?
Scorching me for being exposed in this way.    
Grasping me with both arms and 
Shoving my body into the fire without 
Once acknowledging
 
That the same river    
flows inside you.
 
Or would you say to me “That makes no sense. A canyon doesn’t have a flood plain.”? 
And laugh with me in friendship.
Would you feel the empowered nourishing resilience of this water?
Would you recognize its clarity even while filled with silt and stones?
Would you join me in a tumbling canyon descent, in full awareness
 
That the same river   
flows inside you. ​

Sarah Mussulman

Jan Rudestam

Katy Dion