10.31.13 Good Grief
photos by gluttonforlife
I have a daily meditation practice. Me. She of the get-up-and-go mornings. I rise in the dark (hotly anticipating the end of daylight savings time) and sit on a yoga blanket on the chilly floor of my office, neck wrapped in a scarf to ward off evil drafts, legs folded like a pretzel, hands in my lap, eyes closed. And there I sit for the better part of an hour, trying to empty my mind of thoughts or at least to avoid following the relentless train of them that wants to threaten this early peace. It's not easy but occasionally, as I focus on the rise and fall of my breath, the past recedes entirely and so does the future. Then I am left with the moment, which is inevitably free of...everything.
And yet. More often than not, the second I close my eyes and begin, an enormous wave of grief rises from deep inside, as if from some bottomless well of sorrow. It is not attached to thought but more like an involuntary spasm. Tears stream down from my closed lids. I sit with it. Keep my breath steady and calm. Because that is what we are learning to do in this MBSR course. To abandon thought, to relinquish judgment, simply to observe. It passes but when I am done meditating my mind often returns to this grief that dwells within. Will it follow me forever? I picture it like a vine that has grown over the bronchi in my lungs, like the Virginia Creeper that twines around the trees upstate. They coexist, but sometimes it looks like a contest to survive.
And yet. More often than not, the second I close my eyes and begin, an enormous wave of grief rises from deep inside, as if from some bottomless well of sorrow. It is not attached to thought but more like an involuntary spasm. Tears stream down from my closed lids. I sit with it. Keep my breath steady and calm. Because that is what we are learning to do in this MBSR course. To abandon thought, to relinquish judgment, simply to observe. It passes but when I am done meditating my mind often returns to this grief that dwells within. Will it follow me forever? I picture it like a vine that has grown over the bronchi in my lungs, like the Virginia Creeper that twines around the trees upstate. They coexist, but sometimes it looks like a contest to survive.
a cure-all
People I have loved have gotten sick. Several of them have died. It happens. Is this something we ever truly get over? I don't know the answer to that. I thought I had. I consider myself to be a happy person, albeit one that feels things deeply. But I do believe that we carry these emotions in our bodies and that in moments of great stillness they can surface. I love what Colette wrote about this...
It's so curious: one can resist tears and "behave" very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer...and everything collapses.
It's so curious: one can resist tears and "behave" very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer...and everything collapses.
grass roots
Time heals, but there is also a deeper letting go that takes place when we allow ourselves to slow down and simply be. When the mind and body are still, lulled by the rhythm of the breath and the gentle beating of the heart, a reassuring peace prevails.
And many steaming cups of this soothing and healing anti-inflammatory ginger tea are pretty helpful, too! xo
And many steaming cups of this soothing and healing anti-inflammatory ginger tea are pretty helpful, too! xo
Ginger-Lemongrass Tea
makes about 10 cups (plus a second batch)
- — 8 ounces fresh ginger
- — 1 whole lemon
- — 2 large stalks lemongrass
- — honey, to taste
Slice 6 ounces of the ginger into coins and drop them into a large heavy pot. Use a spoon to bruise them. Finely grate the remaining 2 ounces and add it, along with any juice, to the pot.
Remove the zest from the lemon in strips with a peeler. Add these and the juice of the lemon to the pot.
Peel the tough outer layers of the lemongrass and remove the dark green stalks. Trim off the root ends and bash the remaining stalks with a heavy spoon or mallet to release the oils. Add them along with 10 cups of water to the pot. Cover and simmer gently for an hour.
Strain, reserving solids to make another batch, if desired. Pour cups of hot tea and stir in honey to taste. Keep refrigerated for several days and enjoy hot or cold.
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