On Love, Loss & Letting Go

As the pandemic unfolded in late March and we all began to stay at home more, I noticed how challenging it was for me to focus.  Things I normally love to do, like writing and reading, gave way to evenings on the couch binge watching “Sex Education” and spending more time outside on long walks and hikes.  I stayed with my morning meditations, but watched my mind ping pong all over the place… much more than usual as it wrapped itself around this new reality.

And then, at some point, I got an email from a writer I’ve followed for years, Laurie Wagner, who teaches a form of free writing she calls “Wild Writing.” She was generously offering a free virtual writing challenge called “27 Days of Wild Writing.” I immediately signed up.  

I’m on Day 26 now and feeling sad that it will be coming to an end. This 27-day challenge has become a welcome friend and a regular new ritual I include in my early mornings. It’s helped me get back into a daily practice of writing and allowed me to tap into some of the emotions I was experiencing viscerally (loss, especially) but couldn’t quite name until I began putting pen to paper.

Each day Laurie sends a short video with a poem she reads,  writing prompts to get us started, and a few words of encouragement. Then we set our timers and write for 15 minutes (or more!).  No editing, just whatever wants to spill out on to the page. **

Back on Day 8, the poem she shared was “In Blackwater Woods” by Mary Oliver, one of my favorites.

I thought I’d share with you both the poem and the piece I wrote in response to it.  

In Blackwater Woods

by Mary Oliver

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

And my (unedited) response…

To live in this world you must be brave and be willing to risk having your heart broken over and over.

It could be the little heartbreaks, like when you watch the last episode of your new favorite show on Netlfix or the larger ones like when you wake up and realize that today is the day you have to put your sixteen year old dog down. 

The dog who was by your side when you got married and tried to get pregnant and went thorugh IVF for years. The dog who has been by your side through over a decade of life’s joys and sorrows. 

To live in this world you must be willing to love and then let go. 

I’m still learning the art of letting go. Letting go, letting go, letting go. 

Saying those words out loud makes me think of tossing flower petals or a lei into the ocean and watching the waves gently carry them out further and further.

Wouldn’t it be lovely if loss was so gentle? In my experience, it’s not.

Even when I can see it coming it always feels much too soon. I can hear the voice inside me pleading, bargaining: “Just a little more time. Please?” A bargaining with God as if I really have any control over Her plan. Silly girl. 

So I love what is mortal and hold it close with both arms and cherish the time I do have. I remember that each day, no matter how challenging, is a precious gift. 

I remember that to have these arms to feel and sense and wrap around another’s body whom I love… this is a gift. And while hugs may not be possible for a while I can still remember how precious they are. 

And remember that while I am alive in this mortal body the most precious thing I can do is to love. Love myself, love the beings in my life who I hold dear.

Love. 

** If you feel inspired to do so, I invite you to read this poem and then set your own timer for fifteen minutes. Using the writing prompt “To live in this world, you must….” just begin to write. Don’t think about it too much or edit, just allow whatever words come to you to flow out onto the page. And if you’d like a witness for what you’ve written feel free to share in the comments below or you can always send me a private message here.