After a whirlwind two months, I feel like I’m re-entering humanity. I haven’t been in hibernation or isolation or immobilized by life. My life, however, since December 6, 2012 has been turned upside-down and my heart broken open. Oh, and we’ve relocated from Texas to California.
I’m back, but I’m also changed. My brother’s death has been a profound tragedy for my family. The mystery, violence, and tragedy of his death has had extensive repercussions for all of us. Writing has always been part of my life, part of my passion and calling in life, a way for me to process and find direction during transitions. It’s not that this has been difficult to put into words. There have been no words.
Silence, like grief, is a sacred gift. The key to experiencing the sacred in silence and grief is to move with it. This goes against our very natures. How often do you find yourself filling the uncomfortable lull in conversation? There’s a fine line when a conversational lull becomes eye-avoiding silence. Most of us don’t want it to get to silence so we inanely blabber on to fill the void silence creates.
And in that inane moment, we miss the sacred gift.
Silence is both sacred and a gift because it’s essential for us to hear the inner voice that guides us. When we fill the silence we begin striving and we begin striving, we stop moving with the silence and start orchestrating the things and thoughts we’re placing in the silence. We’re no longer flowing with the silence, but trying to control it. The more we try to control, the more out of control we feel. Before we know it we’re in more of a confused mess than before we noticed the silence.
A lot of things need to be in alignment in order to hear the inner voice that guides us. Be still and know I am God (Isaiah 46:10) is a verse that anchors and reminds me of silence’s sacred gift.
One thing I’ve come to know during this time of silence is that grief is essential to our humanity. Grief is an interesting teacher and there have been some surprising lessons. I’ll be sharing some of my thoughts and insights and I hope you’ll share some of yours with me. Instead of shying away from the pain and discomfort of grief – our own and each other’s – I trust we will move with it and uncover its sacred gifts for each of us.