Caleb: I think that grief is worship <…> That takes the shame out of it. So many people are just: “Oh, why am I not at closure yet, and why haven’t I processed through this linear grief work yet? I should be done by now!”
But I think grief is a form of worship. <…> Closure is a myth. It doesn’t happen the way we want it to happen. It’s messy. And the person who has died is there. As long as you love someone you will be grieving.
Every Saturday morning, November through June, except maybe holidays, the Tree Team goes out to plant trees in Oakland. The work is acknowledged by the City of Oakland; a couple of organizers get paid (from grants – nominally, I suspect) for all the planning and coordination that goes into it; most of the work force is voluntary. I join once a month or so, some months more than others. Continue reading “Playing with Trees”
It’s a beautiful sunny day in May. I am seven and a half years old. My first year of school is almost over. We had the finals last week, and now it’s just day trips, games outside, and going over the summer homework. I am the best at reading in my class, because I can read 120 words a minute, measured by a little cute sand clock. Continue reading “So Many Colors and So Much Beauty”
This is Part 1 of a series about the stories we tell ourselves. Except, the phrase “we tell ourselves” understates their monstrosity. As if we can just choose to tell them. As if we can choose to not tell them, just like that. As if we can always see them for what they are – or ever. Continue reading “Stories are Monsters. Part 1 (of 3)”