Wood Chips
From the shores of Lake Superior (The Third Coast)
Sitting with friends on a cabin deck on the shores of Lake Superior a few days ago, the subject of grief came up during these days of COVID-19. We’re living through difficult, soul rendering experiences and there’s important work to be done, emotionally and spiritually, with our expectations and hopes. Opportunities and plans haven’t been just delayed. Some are gone forever. A new world to be shaped. We are not going back.
Part of this gradually unfolding challenge is the process of lamentation, sorrow, letting go. Before anything new can ever emerge, there needs to be space inside of us. It’s a thorny problem of the “weight” of history. The very memories from which we draw comfort too often carry a golden glow of a past that never really was there in the first place. Studies in neuroscience confirm that we filter memories and unconsciously appropriate them to whatever advantage they might serve us at the moment.
To allow such a creative space inside of ourselves is to acknowledge loss in our lives. We anguish for human connections, festivals, and gatherings of family and friends, ones without masks and social distance. When we share such feelings and honor them, we “burn clean” as John Sanford, an Episcopal priest, once said. Like burning out creosote from a wood stove chimney. Lessons and “remembered wellness” from the past are crucial, but know that this is a new day. As the Psalmist sings, “Rejoice and be glad in it.” Here’s a simple practice: Gently open your hands, take a deep breath. Whisper a prayer of thanks. Today is what has been given us. Celebrate it. Be open to signs of hope and grace. Now, go or, if you need to, just be. Make good and wise use of these hours.
Jon Magnuson
The Cedar Tree Institute
“Wood Chips” is a series of brief reflections written by Jon Magnuson, Director of the Cedar Tree Institute.
