The Medicine of Tears
“Attention is the beginning of devotion.” ~ Mary Oliver
Last weekend I had a much needed cry. My tears had been on the surface for a while and finally, the dam burst. Ecological grief and the pain of the world just got to be too much. After the tears, I felt both drained and relieved.
Today my eyes feel clear and my body has more space to receive. My senses are alive and present. I feel more receptive to the beauty and resilience of the birds outside my window and feel the melody of their songs. I see the bare trees beginning to bud, the changing light of the sun, the melting snow, the many signs spring is near.
In response to the sometimes overwhelm of today’s news, people may remind us to bear witness and to act. “Don’t turn away” is a sentiment that is often shared. And I agree we must not bury our heads in the sand.
But we must not only bear witness to the horrors of the world, we must also bear witness to the world’s wild beauty.
For if we don’t see the beauty of birds, wildflowers, pollinators and other mammals in our local ecosystems, how will we know if they’re missing? If we forget to stare into the eyes of our beloved, how can we blame them if they walk away?
In a recent dream my grief was so outsized and painful, it was as though I was trying to move a massive boulder through my body. Although grief emerges as water, the grief in my dream felt like stone. I tried to cry and I choked. The tears didn't come. How could they? First, something inside me had to be crushed. Had to be transmuted. Had to melt.
I woke and I wrote: It's no wonder I was steeling myself against that boulder of grief. Something like that could take over. Become me. Swallow me. Drown me. Anchor me in place.
I wrote that it is not really grief that I am afraid of but loss. I am afraid of absence. I am afraid of losing those I love. I am afraid of the impossible grief that comes when a species who existed for eons is suddenly gone. Gone because of human impact.
If there was one bird left in the world I would see, celebrate and love that bird.
When my activism comes from a place of love, it feels different. I’m not fighting against but fighting for. Or better yet, I am devoted to, or acting on behalf of those I love.
Sometimes we reserve the word “love” for our romantic partners or family and other times we throw the word around: “I love that song, I love that dress!” But here, I am talking about the weight of the word. The tenderness of the word. Love that protects and nurtures. Love that wants freedom and joy for the beloved whether the beloved is another species, an ecosystem, a people, a place. Even oneself.
I have noticed that healing myself heals the Earth. I know this is true because the more I heal, the more I see and the more capacity I have to love. And as I continue to grow, I feel more and more my healing comes from decentering the self rather than fixating on the self. Unless, of course, I remember that my “self” is an ever-changing amorphous, watery body. A body composed of countless stories, memories and microbes. A body composed of water, fire, air and earth. An ancient body that evolved in the ocean, cries salt water tears, and is an ever-changing ecosystem all her own.
Today, devoted to my local ecosystem, I bear witness to wild beauty. Senses alive, I am present to it all.
Who are the loved ones — human and more-than-human — in your ecosystem you might notice and celebrate today? What would devotion to them look like?
INVITATIONS:
Sharing The Gift Of Seeds: Sunday, March 16th at Sawmill Herb Farm, 119 Old Sunderland Rd, Montague MA
Bring home seeds to sow resilience in your community as we cultivate gift culture together! After 12 years of growing regionally adapted seeds for sale, Fruition Seeds now grows hundreds of vegetable, flower and herb seeds to share as gifts. Like these seeds, we trust generosity amplifies abundance in the world. In this spirit, we invite you to practice giving and receiving seeds differently than you've ever experienced before. As we (un)learn mindsets of scarcity and receive the extraordinary abundance of seeds, we invite you to join our beautiful, reflective, joyful and transformative ~3 hour experience where we will laugh, play, practice the hard work of receiving beyond transaction and perhaps even shed a tear or two. RSVP here.
Women’s Boxing at the Franklin County YMCA in Western MA. Learn more and sign up here. If you’re curious about my boxing background, I invite you to read Rewilding Through Boxing, an essay I wrote for
Rewilding Through Writing: Generative Sessions
Every other Sunday starting April 6th, 12-2pm EST. Learn more here and register here.
Nourishing Earth, Nourishing Ourselves: The second installment of this webinar series in collaboration with Project Coyote takes place April 8th with Owen Wormser, author of Lawns Into Meadows. Learn more and register here.
This made me really want to pay attention to what's happening in my life when I have crying dreams. I've never tried to connect the two. Thank you for sharing this beautiful piece.
This really resonated with me. What a powerful dream! Thank you for sharing.