AUGUST 7
By discovering my own inwardness I am in communion
with all other human beings, with nature and beauty and
the goodness of all that is.
—MARIA BOULDINGIn our grief, sometimes we feel so alone, as though fate has
singled us out for this misfortune and we have no compan-
ions, no one whose experience of the world even touches
ours.
While our situation is in some ways unique—as unique
as the person we have lost—perhaps we can find comfort
in realizing how profoundly we are a part of the great human
story. And not only the human story. For life in all its forms
is a cycle of birth, living, death, rebirth. Even the mountains
rise up, are eroded flat, and rise up again.
In contemplative silence we can sense communion with
all people, and with trees, flowers, wind, sky. I remember
how, in the anguished months after my daughter died, I
would step out into my backyard and commune with the
trees—laying my hands against the bark. Sometimes (when
I was sure no one was looking!) I put my arms around a fa-
vorite tree, and rested against it, as though the common
source of life that fed us both would bring me strength and
stability.
I am a part of all that is. The great mystery of creation holds me
at its heart—as it holds my lost love. In this we are together.