Seeking Grace

Yesterday afternoon I took a late August walk in the woods. I was

Seeking Grace

and solace after hearing that a friend’s husband died unexpectedly this week.

As I walked I soaked in the quiet humid beauty of this unusually rainy summer in Minnesota. Though the leaves may be a bit lusher than usual some of them are already turning fall colors. And many leaves are looking tattered and torn by life’s vicissitudes. After experiencing several losses in the past year (my cat Gracie in late December, a dear friend in February, my cousin’s husband died suddenly in May, and now a friend’s loss of her spouse) I too am feeling a little tattered and torn by life’s vicissitudes. Even though I did not know my friend’s husband, I feel her loss and can imagine how I would feel to lose someone dear to me. I feel for my friend and for anyone who is grieving.

So I go to the woods for solace. And I often feel as if the trees embrace me with their unconditional love and grace. They spend long years of standing in one place, growing through the seasons, growing roots deep in the soil, making new leaves and shedding leaves each year as the seasons turn. I can feel the benevolence and wisdom of trees in every cell of my body. I like to think that the feelings I have for the trees might be reciprocated, that they love and appreciate me too.

Other Ways of Grace

Writing this blog is another form of seeking grace. Often I don’t know what I will write about until I sit down to write. But when I sit and begin writing ideas form, sentences coalesce. Over my years of writing I have learned that sitting down to write is a good way to explore and sometimes discover half-formed feelings and ideas.

It’s very interesting to see that this blog that I started because I felt I needed to grow a photography business (which I long ago let go of for the simple joy of making photos) has turned into a major form of self-expression and exploration.

Of course, making photographs is and will always be my primary form of expressing and experiencing joy. I consider my discovery that I love making photographs to be a huge unexpected blessing that came at just the right time in my life.

Impermanence

One of the things that I’ve experienced again and again as a photographer is the transience of everything in life. Everything changes all the time, the light, the weather, the woods, everything!

There is nothing quite like a sudden loss of a friend or acquaintance to bring up feelings of the transience of life. Experiencing loss makes me want to become a better friend, to say, “I love you,” frequently to all of the people I care about, to try to never let anything be unsaid. I often think, “What would I tell you if this was the last time I saw you?” And mostly, it’s quite simple, things like, “I love you. I’m grateful that you’re a part of my life. You are so special to me.”

Life’s impermanence, I realized, is what makes every single day so precious. It’s what shapes our time here. It’s what makes it so important than not a single moment be wasted.

   — Wes Moore

Last night I saw an Instagram post made by Jane Goodall. In it she said, “My next great adventure at age 90 is dying. There’s either nothing or something. If there’s nothing, that’s it. And if there’s something I can’t think of a greater adventure than finding out what it is.”

Hearing this reminded me that dying happens to us all. It is not a tragedy for the one who dies, it’s the next great adventure. Yes, we mourn and grieve. And I don’t want to minimize that pain of loss. Loss happens to us all sooner or later. May we, each of us, help one another through our loss and grief, and continue seeking grace in what remains.

Here’s a recent poem from one of my favorite poets, Danna Faulds:

Let’s Make It Count

A life is not easily defined.
It’s not neatly wrapped and tied,
the bow just so, box ready to
reveal its hidden contents.
Try fitting a life into an obituary
and what comes through is the
smallest hint of the living that’s
been done. Accomplishments
can be listed, but the struggles
and the obstacles are all left out.
Without difficulties to overcome
and the healing of old wounds,
life loses its true meaning.
Can you say what someone’s
love felt like when their heart
finally cracked open in grief
or relief or whatever it took to
bring down their inner walls?
Can you describe the shining
in their eyes when they felt
their link to the Infinite,
when something bigger than
ego lit their soul and spilled
over so you could feel it too?
There’s no capturing in words
the unique being that came
into this world with a cry
and tried to find their
particular holy grail and
share it with the world.
There’s only living, loving,
connecting, and creating.
There’s only this one luminous
moment that we share together.
Let’s make it count.

Danna Faulds

May you walk in beauty.

Note: Photos from a short walk at French Regional Park earlier this week.