Month: March 2016

Grief

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I blogged about my friend who died the morning I left on a retreat. Last week, The Welshman’s mother passed. She was a complicated person and minimally nice. Nice is a strong word to use, but she was never kind. Still, The Welshman’s mother died. An abused child doesn’t think of the abuse when their parent dies, especially when age has weakened the sting.

His grieving has helped me understand mine but that is not what I am writing about.

I am writing about his.

He came home from work early and just wanted to relax. I took him for a drive up the coast much like you’d take your dog out for some good deep breaths f air and relaxation. He felt better but exhausted. Grief is exhausting. mind numbingly so.

Now he has a cold of sorts. He never catches colds. The cold is his way of handling grief. I believe it allows him to be weak. Something his mother beat out of him at a very young age and his father fostered by being weak.

I wish there was a pillow that absorbed grief and took one off to sleep in a land of good memories and happy endings. I wish there was a blanket of dreams that washed away grief, taking it away in great waves  like those created by a storm over the ocean. I want the soft sand to sift away the remainder of pain and become sand castles of hope.

The future will be bright again one day for The Welshman. One only hopes the wait isn’t long. He deserves to rid himself of this cold and inhale deeply of the fresh new air of tomorrow.23704898785_aaa4f93a24_m

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Reflections on my retreat

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Just over a month ago, I went on a retreat. I needed it. I made myself go. Even after The Welshman told me I should, I didn’t make my decision right away.

Nothing wrong with the retreat. The thought of spending a weekend with people I didn’t know was scary enough. Add spend that time in a one-room cabin and I’m on a ledge over the ocean. Before I could shut things down, I signed up.

Forcing yourself to do something is good medicine.

Yoga, painting and nature.

Yoga: I do chair yoga. Painting: I paint. Nature: my soul resides deep in nature’s woods and deserts.

Painting: I watched paintings bloom. And painted a blossom of my own.

Nature: she never disappoints.

So what could scare me? People, fellow fishies swimming in the sea of life.

Overall, considering my feelings about strangers, the weekend went well. I learned several things about myself. One, I need to learn to ask. Two, I really need to learn to ask. Three, I will most likely never ask.

I also learned that as an empath to surround yourself with new energies and let them pour in, is good and insanely risky.

Good, because it opens you up to the big pond of fishes we all swim with and lets us know we are all the same. Basically. now there’s a word I hate, basically. Nothing in life is really basic or accurate as we first see or experience it. It takes time to establish a baseline so basically isn’t complex enough to detail life. Hopefully, life leads us on new adventures and we are changing. Viewpoints, likes, dislikes, needs, and wants all these things should experience growth/change throughout our lives.

The retreat came on the wings of the death of a dear friend. I had no idea of how to let her go.

Do you feel grief is you know someone has suffered for a very long time? Selfishly, yes. You have lost someone. Compassionately, no. Will I miss our daily chats or texts? Yes. Will I miss trying to offer comfort when I know her pain is far beyond what most could live through? No.

The retreat gave me a sound footing with which I could deal with the loss. The storm reminded me of her fierceness and the rain washed away my tears as it fed the earth.The closeness to nature brought balance to my insecurities about being with so many unknowns. The fishies all on their own journeys finding the time to step outside their private ponds and take a dip with others in search of answers. Or for some justification.  The simple desire for a soft touch or sincere pat on the back, maybe just a kind word.

The closeness to nature brought balance to my insecurities about being with so many unknowns. The fishies all on their own journeys finding the time to step outside their private ponds and take a dip with others in search of answers. Or for some justification.  The simple desire for a soft touch or sincere pat on the back, maybe just a kind word.

Kind words. How important are they? Randomly compliment someone and see.

I promised myself to do more meditating. And have. I promised to spend more time in nature and have done this as well. Alone, but at peace with myself.

Thirty days of reflection made me realize retreats are a good thing. A writers retreat is in my future. Conferences seem tied to business and hordes of people. Conventions: my pond evaporates into a single drop and I’m stuck in the mud.

Today, I wondered how many of the other fishies have been reflecting on the retreat?

I am thankful for the retreat. I am grateful to have known my friend.

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