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Stars & Grief

We drove upstate to a weekend getaway.  I found a place where they let us bring our dogs. One of whom had cancer.  Went walking with them deep into the dark,  and looked up to see


Stars like I have never seen them and silence.

Mirroring the way darkness vaults  the stars into their true brilliance,  this silence opens up a holy space  for the sound of living things.  Tiny critters moving in the field,  birds shuffling around in their habitats,  wind lolligagging in the trees,

leaves unhinged, surrendered, spiraling down.  I can actually hear that all happening.  It’s humbling. It unwords me.

Suddenly I forget all the thinky clutter  in my head, and I am ushered into the world that my body has always been a part of, The world that is part of my body

that makes up my body so that it’s no longer ‘me’ and ‘the world’ but  just one entity made of darkness and  stars and me and silence and sounds and hands typing this message to you, who are also part of this vast and fathomless entity.

I hope I remember this when my dog makes his passage so I can hold my grief at losing him as that vast darkness against which the stars of my joy at having loved him so much

can shine their brightest.


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