Posted on by mgminer · 7 Comments

On Grief

I looked down at the bottom of the Zoom screen. Participants-78. I felt somewhat relieved that with a gathering of this size, I could remain somewhat invisible. The workshop was titled, “The Mystery of Grief, Writing into the Loss,” led by a favorite poet, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer.

Rosemerry began by singing the beautiful words of Gregory Orr, a selection from a longer work:

Not to make loss beautiful,
But to make loss the place
Where beauty starts. Where
the heart understands
For the first time
The nature of its journey.

She talked about her own experience and how writing helped her to meet her grief in whatever form it presented itself. It’s everchanging, day by day. “Grief – what do you have to teach me today?” she asks. Rosemerry meets her grief with a daily poem writing process. She begins with this curiosity and writes, “Today grief is….”

As a group, we added our own responses to the prompt in the Chat. The responses were powerful and heartfelt. Some I captured in my notebook.

Today grief is…
tender
a vibration
bone-weary
a tumultuous river
a frozen river
underground
right behind my eyes
an endless knot
muscular
a freefall
beside me

Having lost a dear friend on Tuesday, March 6, my tears were close, but I felt comfort in this group of strangers coming together around loss. We had all experienced it, as every human being must. There was compassion for the experience of being in the grocery store and wanting to shout at strangers, “Can’t you see how sad I am?” Compassion for the woman who is the caregiver for her husband and his cancer after losing a daughter to cancer six months ago. Compassion for the impossibility of understanding suicide. Compassion for the new widow trying to figure out how to be in their shared home of 50 years without his presence.

Rosemerry encouraged us to pay attention and reflect on what happens in our bodies when we write. How does writing open us to know when we are writing what is true?

Isn’t it remarkable what we can carry at times and how we are also carried? Isn’t it a wonder how resilient and adaptive humans can become? Isn’t it a blessing when we gather with others (even strangers) and know we are not alone? How differently we might treat others if we only knew the things they hold in their hearts.

Please go here to read another poem we discussed called, “Made Visible” by poet, James Crews. It just might touch you.

Thank you to all who make this writing space
a place of safety, support, and beauty.
Posted on by mgminer · 11 Comments

Naming the Concept

I was listening to a podcast (yes, I do that quite frequently!) and had my mind blown by a concept called “the second simplicity.” The idea is that we often start with a certain simplicity, then enter a state of complexity, and come out the other side with a second simplicity that is deeper and richer than where we began. This is a natural progression, but somehow having a name for it is very cool.

An example was offered of a fifth grader playing Beethoven’s “Fur Elise.” The student has learned the notes, the rhythm, and perhaps something about the form of the piece. Later, that piano student goes deeper into the complexity of music including the life of Beethoven, his style and contributions to the Romantic period. Perhaps more study would include harmony, structure, dynamics, phrasing, and personal expression. After deep study, the pianist returns to “Fur Elise” with a deeper appreciation of its beauty and is able to add wisdom to the performance. Same notes played, but how the music is enriched.

I googled this concept and learned that Oliver Wendell Holmes put it this way:

“I would not give a fig for the simplicity this side of complexity, but I would give my life for the simplicity on the other side of complexity.”

All day, I was thinking about this as I cooked, cleaned, and tended to Saturday chores. I think the second simplicity certainly applies to motherhood (with grandmothering being the 2nd simplicity). I think it applies to teaching reading and writing, too. It’s another way of looking at anything we might struggle with or strive toward. Working through the complexity of the “messy middle” is usually rewarded with a profound sense of peace when there is an end to the striving. I love that now I have a name for that feeling–the second simplicity.

What do you think?

Thank you to all who make this writing space

a place of safety, support, and beauty.