JULY 19
Over the nowhere arches the everywhere.
—MARIA RAINER RILKEI remember on a very cold day retracing my steps in what
could have been no more than a square quarter mile of a
section of Minneapolis. It was late afternoon, in winter. I
could see the top of the building I wanted to get to, but
turning toward it, I would again lose sight of it as I hurried
among the intervening buildings. I knew that if only I could
look down on it from above, I could understand the scheme
of streets and find my way.
Sometimes when we are grieving we feel as though we
are randomly moving about (or being moved), totally out
of touch with any overarching reality or meaning in our
lives. Or maybe the feeling is akin to losing one’s place in a
book. How can we find the page again, and pick up the story
line?
For a while we probably can’t. Our loss is so consumingly
center stage we can’t see beyond it, or around it.
We need to be patient with ourselves. We will, in time,
be able to find our way through the mazes, be able to pay
attention once more to the other parts of our life’s story. But
there is no use rushing, or no need. The “everywhere” which
hovers over the “nowhere” will not disappear. When we’re
ready, we’ll see it.
Even when I can’t see the sun, I know that it’s there.