Whalesong: Part 1

I have recently stumbled into a new relationship with grief.

This curiosity does not meet with the same comradery  as an interest in joy or peace. Rather, my recent post on facebook, inquiring about the subject,  gave way to a slew of emails predominately checking on my mental state. And that is sweet. It is good to be loved and cared for.

For some reason, it also confirmed my suspicion that we, as a cultural society, do not have an understanding or relationship with grief. Many wondered what or who I was grieving.

Grieving a death is an acceptable grief.

Grieving a relationship is also acceptable, for a certain period of time.

Grieving choices that leave us debilitated or hurt – well, that is a whole new ball of wax. And why does one even want a ball of wax?

 Grieving the splintered nature of the Divine Feminine -  I’m not sure anyone even knows what I am talking about - but that, is what I am talking about. It is time for this tune to be taken out of the darkness of the womb and into the light.

And it is not a bad song.

And it is not a song to sing alone, at least not all of it.

It is a song that is being sung now, always has been, and you already know the words.

 

The Humpbacks


Listen, whatever it is you try
to do with your life, nothing will ever dazzle you
like the dreams of your body,

its spirit
longing to fly while the dead-weight bones

toss their dark mane and hurry
back into the fields of glittering fire

where everything,
even the great whale,
throbs with song.

Mary Oliver