Forgiveness is the key to this portion of Grief. Here the initial shock recedes, hope finds its own rhythm and we impale ourselves from time-to-time on spikes and shards of fear and anger pushing through the cracks in our road.
There is a family of wild turkeys that live and play at the end of my street. It is a 3-way stop, full of commuters in the morning and evening. The wild turkeys pay no heed to the humans in their cars. They forgive us our stress and hurry as they calmly run or walk the corner – together.
That unconditional forgiveness has such strength within it for both the originator and the recipient. In the living of Grief we move toward forgiveness and yet, sometimes we forget ourselves within the equation. We see the other person and the situation. We forget we are also one of the streets flowing in.
Forgiveness is the thread and love is the needle to sew the cracks in the road.
Nine years ago I drove across country with my husband after a stroke that left him with memory gaps for items, their names and their uses. The notice of this started when he turned to me with his cell phone in hand and wasn’t sure what to do with it.
My world tilted. Ways of doing things that were ingrained from 21 years of living together were shredded within days. I found myself angry with him, then me. I found myself afraid that I would not be enough. I used fear to judge myself. I found myself wanting.
How often does Grief walk hand-in-hand with change to basics within our lives? In that moment when we wish nothing more than to have the stability of what was – we plunge into the great mystery that is unfolding.
That movement is neither good nor bad. It just is.
Today I can say that and smile with a relaxed mouth and shoulders and hands and back… Nine years ago I said the words and brought forth all my acting skills to mimic the look and feel of relaxation.
This morning I watched the turkeys and the people, the cars and the road. I looked up into this pale blue sky with etched clouds, those fluffy white clouds edged in deepest silver.
I know the feel of forgiveness’ thread. I own love’s needle. Now to thread the needle, form the stitches and make my road whole.
I forgive me.
Theresa McGoff Ferreira has been telling stories and sounding since she discovered that her mouth was meant for something other than holding her fingers and toes. Her quest to understand the world around her when someone could not answer her questions supported the growth of her creative interpretation of how things work. Sound is her favorite sculpting tool.
You may think you already know how the world works.
Come into Resa’s World for a few moments. See what the weaver has done to all those tangled threads we leave in the corner, in the middle, on the edge.
No one weaves quite like Resa, or you may call her Theresa. No matter… the weaving and the sound do not care what you call her. It does care what she calls you.
Come into Resa’s World…
Read Grief, Part 1 by Resa
Resa broadcasts on Silver Tent Radio about How Sound Shapes Your Life. Listen to Part 8 Here
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