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The Roads Of Grief
How Grief Invites Depth And Gravity Into Our Lives
Friday Morning, 5:07 am… I’m staring at my journal with words I can’t read. I feel affection for my wounds, tuning into lessons; Where am I again?
Lately, I’ve been feeling all the things. A few years ago, I was recovering from a suicide attempt and divorce, trying to find out who George was. Then the pandemic took over the world; I quit my job to write a book, and the book was published before I ever had a chance to enjoy the freshly minted pages off the press.
And now I am watching my dad slowly whither away, and I could not help but think about who I am. Like a snake shedding its skin to grow, I am more open to the world around me as life pushes me into a place of exposure.
In his book, The Way of The Superior Man, David Deida says that a man must love his father and yet be free of his father’s expectations and criticisms to be a free man.
The only way I can be free of his expectations is to walk through the roads before me with curiosity and affection. Something wants me to dance with death at the gates of Hell.
An underworld where I explore the depths of my soul. I’ve been here before. But this time, it feels different. If I choose to be curious about what is in front of me, I can surrender to…
