MARCH 19
What was it in the sweep of the sky, the giant outcropping
of rock, the sassafras leaf in my hand? I did not know, but I
felt hushed by awe and a quiet joy.
—AVERY BROOKEPerhaps we all have our special places of healing. In a class
I took on “Art as Meditation,” the leader suggested, “Close
your eyes. Think of your favorite place in all the world.”
Where is yours? Where is mine? Perhaps they are different
places at different times. But as grievers, we would do well
to go, as often as we’re able, to places that have a healing
calm for us.
And maybe it’s not a single specific place, but a type of
place. A friend of mine says, “The ocean. Anywhere, so long
as it’s the ocean.”
Once there, we have to be willing to let the place speak
to us, and to open our hearts, to “the sweep of sky, the out-
cropping of rock”—to the peace that seems to emanate from
such places, telling us in some mysterious way that all shall
be well.
In communion with the beauty of nature, I find an affirmation of
all that is, including me.