Last week was the first session of a men's grief group that I am attending. It is sponsored by the local hospice society. At the end of last week, I had made the promise to myself to take a walk down the river. I know I have spoken about this before, but it is interesting to visit the same place at different times of the year. I didn't end up going last week, (jackson was home from school sick) so I took the oppportunity today to go.
Before my walk I had listened to a speech by Martin Prechtel. I have attached a link for those who are interested in listening to some of his ideas.
http://www.firstvoicesindigenousradio.org/sites/default/files/firstvoicesindigenousrad_20150910.mp3
My walk started at the end of Patricia and it was raining. I had worn my sandals without socks just in case I ended up getting my feet wet. I know that I need to always plan ahead, just in case the kid in me wants to come out and play. A few passerby's were startled by my outfit and told me that it was wishful thinking, besides it is still February, it should be cold and miserable and I shouldn't see signs of life ... I don't really care what people think (most of the time) and in fact take this as a metaphor for my grief experience. I think it is important to remind myself to stop, open my eyes though and embrace the world around me, I can't help but wonder what tomorrow will bring ... and I know that today is a good day to be alive and take in the signs and wonders of the natural world.
It was quite an experience slipping on the ice, gathered up some rocks and then I came upon this amazing root system that someone had stuck in the river bank. It formed the shape of a cross, and I am not sure how it was created, as it looks like the two roots had grown together. I grabbed the branch and started wondering back along the river bank. At one point my sandals were filled with snow but I reminded myself to listen to my body, embrace the numbness for a while and then seek out a path where my feet wouldn't be covered in snow and they could warm a little and I could focused on the pain of the cold. It was just then that the sun began to shine, an eagle encouraged me to sit and watch the river go by and I could rub some warmth back into my toes.
It was there, while sitting on my favourite bench, where I met Jerry, an interesting millar addition resident who walks along the river almost daily. Jerry told me he is 69 years old, retired and it sounded like he was in a bit of a quandary and feeling stuck between restlessness and periods of inactivity and contemplating his relationship between living and gathering material goods. I think people who spent any time around me know that conversations can start up with complete strangers and can grow into a bit of a mystical quest discussing themes of life, death, and what it all means ...
Jerry was a hunter and fisherman, but most importantly he was a keen observer of nature and the cycles of the natural world. We talked about how the eagles anticipate change and instead of being caught in the crisis of a collapsed nest, they are able to proactively anticipate when they will require a new home. It is possible that this story hit home to me as spring is approaching and Alli and I are discussing what it would take to move back out to the commonground property.
Today was a beautiful day to grieve, the rain reminded me of the tears that I experience when thinking about how much I miss my son, the river reminds me that life goes on and the water flows around those things in my life that I am not prepared to move, at least not just yet. I have choice in what I want to see, and if I get tired, I can close my eyes, or look away, or better yet wait because the world is constantly in flux and regardless of my perspective, the only thing I know to be true is that change is just around the corner and I don't have to do anything that I don't want to ...
It was there, while sitting on my favourite bench, where I met Jerry, an interesting millar addition resident who walks along the river almost daily. Jerry told me he is 69 years old, retired and it sounded like he was in a bit of a quandary and feeling stuck between restlessness and periods of inactivity and contemplating his relationship between living and gathering material goods. I think people who spent any time around me know that conversations can start up with complete strangers and can grow into a bit of a mystical quest discussing themes of life, death, and what it all means ... 