Different Way

Different way:

after my mother died, and my marriage slid closer to divorce, I found myself drawn to the local trails and long hours of running, simply being in motion as a natural means to express a deep grief that wouldn’t stay still within me. I needed to run. Many friends and family members assumed that I was hiding from my grief, denying the present hurt by attempting to out run its presence, or to keep my mind and body occupied with another hurt altogether. In truth, I was just just mourning in motion, grieving by miles and on the trail, healing through my love of nature. My body knew just what to do, and if I listen closely, it always seems so, even now as I grieve different way.

it’s not far from a year since my father died, and although my love of being immersed in nature is undiminished, my urge to run those endless miles is gone, I’m no longer drawn to grieve in such a way, my body has grown quieter now. Perhaps it’s a matter of age, or losing the last loved one that truly loved me deeply, but my body is holding this grief longer, seemingly to the depth of my bones, maybe even further, and intuitively I know that motion isn’t the means to heal this grief. Not this time, and at least not in the same way as before. I walk more slowly through nature now, eager to site birds, deer, and the occasional magic of a fox appearing in a brief and stealthy show of grace. My walks aren’t long…