grief

and praise

Tomorrow afternoon I have been invited to host a song circle as part of a week-long Grief Summit, centralizing the importance of grief, community, water and story-telling; exploring paths forward in our relation to grief.

It’s a beautiful offering put on by my friend Amber Van Cleave, a being I am truly honored to know in this life, who has also initiated a weekly offering for anyone interested, to gather, walk and sing to the River.

I met Amber through a weekend-long Grief Ritual held at the Hearth last autumn, where some 20 of us gathered for three days of deep-dive grief allowing. It was extremely beautiful and cleansing, it really moved me - how some cultures on this planet see and love grief as any other form of emoting force through the human being. It is something to be shared. Expressed. Cherished. Given away.

So I’ve been allowing that grief force, it’s intelligence, to move through me as I find a few new musical pieces to share in the circle.

Have you heard this song?

For those of you tracking my health journey and life changes - Amara and I have been house-sitting for a friend for almost a week now and will continue to stay with friends in town throughout the winter. Meaning, we are off the magical winter wonderland mountain, for a time.

We are seeing major shifts, so I am grateful. It is also such a trip to be in town, in house, electrical heat, hot running water, etc. I mean I’m not foreign to it all, obviously, but my child has been so shaped by the warming fire, the icy winters, the unbounded wilderness, the mere presence of so many animals, the silence, the wind, the rain.

The sounds of modernity genuinely startle her - the hot water heater, the flush toilet, the kitchen fan, the mini-fridge. She is mesmerized by power lines and the garbage truck. The coal train. The light switches. On, off. On, off. On, off.

I am finding how the days easily slip into one long day, less filled with the magic of nature and survival. My inspiration is slightly waning, although I did write one poem the other day:

the rooster
weaves
together
so many places
I've lived

And I’ve been reading In the Shadow of the Formless: The Lost Writings of Wu Hsin, since I’ve been here. Tiny poems of pure insight. I found the book at a thrift store a few weeks ago and it’s pretty much the only thing I want to read. At night, I plug in my little hot pad, open my book, read poems and giggle with Amara. I am really grateful for these evenings she and I have together, it is such precious time, when the to-do’s of the day subside and I can really just be with her, so fully, so freely. There’s no greater gift.

Some moments from Wu Hsin:

Eyes are not required for insight. 

*** 

All these dramas are like
the blowing of the wind.
In time, it ceases. 
Outside of time, it never was. 

***

Being is the seed from which
All worlds, 
All gods and
All forms sprout. 
It parents everything.

***

Every action is a movement of energy. 
The wave on the ocean is not
The movement of water. 
It is the movement of
Energy through water, 
The movement of 
the Animator through the inanimate. 
To see this clearly is to
Understand the workings of the universe. 
When there is understanding of
The workings of the universe, 
There can be no
Resistance or opposition.
When there is no
Resistance or opposition, 
All that remains is Peace. 

Thankfully where we are staying is close to the river park. Yesterday we walked over there to see frozen sheets of ice floating downstream in a mini-river created by the thick ice sheets along the banks of the river. It was good to smell the willows.

Thanks for reading this edition of Wild Leaf.

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Much love,

Leah