I put a rock in my pocket (a journey of grief and healing)

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Jasper rock gathering MaryHelen Ferris

Both of my parents loved the autumn.   They died within 60 days of each other.  I had not dealt with the grief.  I needed to go to the mountains.  I needed a rock in my pocket.   Here are the ramblings and tumblings of words in grief as I journeyed to find that rock.   Not knowing I would return to this place of grief and growth often, and especially in the autumn.

I watched the sky.
I wondered ‘why?’
I watched my pain
Formed into rain.
It renewed the earth as it fell.
The earth sprung up
Into the mountainous skies.
The beauty of the mountains acted  as shards to Soul.
I caressed the shards with my eyes; wanting them  to cut deep.

Cut away the dross.

Cut away the loss.
The peaks were covered with misty fog.
The peaks were covered in rain.
The peaks were breathing in glorious snow.
I was very jealous.
I needed to feel that connected.
I wanted to lie on the top mountain peak.
I wanted to caress the forest’s floor.
I wanted to know.
I wanted to be.
I wanted to be real.
I craved renewal and purpose.
I needed to be free of the pain of your passing.
I wanted to feel.
Stillness.
Freedom.
I longed for a mission.
I had to have the compulsion to go onward.
I did not feel anything like that at all.
Then the Sun came out.
It silhouetted the trees
Covered them in a raindrop-halo which glistened.
While they danced in the breeze beauty poured over me,
  Beauty bombarded Soul, beauty went through me.
I drove away whole.
Now in the rear-view mirror
I have my direction.
I will return to the mountains
I will walk through the valleys and peaks.
I will do the next ‘right thing’.
I will be a mountain or raindrop.
Depending on the day.
I will be in touch with my life.
I will learn to say “no
To the needs of another
When my own needs are intense.
I will return to these mountains
when I need to get in touch
With my departed parents
Whom I longed to hold so much.
I put a rock in my pocket.

photo by Sonny Alfredo Galea
Jasper National Park photo by Sonny Alfredo Galea

Autumn intentions under the Harvest full moon

roses after first snowfall
Image via Wikipedia

 The autumn crispness now blends with the harvest smells on the breeze

The last barbeques, corn busts, and fire pits are lasting longer.

The last of the roses are worshipped petal by petal…covered by frost..now by snow.

The last die-hard campers are offering pleas.

Spirits are buckling up,  seeing if they are worth the metal

of the long winter ahead.

This will not be a winter of our dis-content.

This will be the harvesting of centuries of due diligence…

This will be the fulfillment of the destiny in the stars…

This is will be the autumn and winter in which Soul serves to flourish

This will be the winter of the longest snows.

This will be the holiday of holidays.

This autumn, this winter the celebration will be ours..

All of this and more…only heaven knows.

“Insha Allah” as the Master wills.

May our hearts be open

May our questioning spirits be stilled.

May we in loving service surrender to God’s will.

May we see the Beloved Master in our neighbours eyes.

May we  live to love many more autumns and winters.

May our loving service come as no surprise.

“Insh Allah” as the Master wills.

May our hearts be open

May our questioning spirits be stilled.

My home is a palace…a temple of Praise…dedicated to Justin….

My home is a palace,

A temple of praise.

A place of worship,

A portal of joy.

A launching pad

‘Tis my jumping off place

I embrace and am renewed

I bask in the Master’s grace.

I have sunlight enough

To flood over my face.

The moonlight calls me

To its sweet embrace.

The serenity, the safety

the sensuousness of the place

Often has me blushing

With enjoyment of this space.

I live among the joyful.

I live among the free.

I live with joy and laughter.

Come over one day for tea.

My home is a palace,

A temple of praise.

A place of worship,

A portal of joy.

I thrive on the abundance.

I move within the song.

I wish I had the time

To be here in my palace

All day long.

I would fluff up my pillows.

I would turn the music down low.

I would put my feet up.

I would read or relax.

I would make the baby quilt.

I would paint my picture.

Or draw.

I would never have to go to work

I would not have to be a part of the maw.

I would sit and watch the birds

As they play among the trees.

Alas, I have my obligations…

I have clothes to mend.

A pot tea is waiting

While I eat bannock with my friend.

My home is a palace,

A temple of praise.

A place of worship,

A portal of joy.