This.
This is the stone of grief that needs tending.
The grief for lost loves
The grief for lost lives
The grief for the world
Which is melting from our desire for more and more and more.
Which is burning with rage and fear and lust for power.
How can I take pleasure in the smallest things?
The pleasures in my heart, my soul, my bones. I call on them to sustain me.
I must tend to the stone of grief.
It cannot be thrown away, though I have tried.
It cannot be ignored, lest it harden and deepen and entrap my soul.
No, it must be held gently in worn hands, that soften misery and melt tears. So that loss does not taint all that there is, all that I see. So that sorrow does not paralyze me.
So that I may soften my days and remember that grief comes from love and longing.
So that grief compels me to stop and notice the gestures of love that soften all the sad stories we carry that are a part of life itself.
What if we relax our hold on grief and bring that power and life force to the surface?
What if, when it emerged, we could use it in more fruitful ways, more careful ways, more gentle ways?
What if we brought devotion to the experience of grief with loving wisdom that it, too, belongs.
