braided river

7759213422_0b40cc81db from Richard Droker

Finding myself falling back into and following the grief journey strand of my braided river, I find myself back in conversation about stone.

Back in the uncharted territory, back in the thick of feeling my way toward something.

I have a long history of being a thinker.

(remember pooh bear? think think think think think)

I think in overlapping circles, and hyperbolic paraboloids. I think in fractals, and tangles, and dotted lines. I think in clouds and swarms and sharp pointy things. I think in layers and layers and layers and layers, out and back, knit and woven, felted, crazy, incessant.

The lessons of learning to feel, allowing myself to feel, allowing intuition to guide me… allowing for the time it takes to feel the right way, the rightest way when there is no Right right way…

Oh, this has been hard.

Applying this to my griefwork has been particularly challenging since in many ways I survived the early days and years of grief by avoiding feeling. By being FINE.

So this pathway down and in, is an excavation too, a digging into the muck and murk, an allowing, an admitting… it is a true journey, uncharted for me…

There is a whole lot of suckiness about this, a lot of sadness unresolved, and probably much unresolvable. This is about so many things, known and not yet known, unknowable, feelable and unfeelable, thinkable and unthinkable, experience-able and unexperience-able…

I have been working in energy, consciously tangling my thinkthinkthink with a new kind of knowing, allowing, and awareness…. letting some ancient languages and maps of how we connect energetically to inform my work in this moment and this one… adapting and adopting some bizarro Kate-hybrid zen-reiki-skeptic-shamanic-hope/prayer think/feel/sense that I adapt and adapt and adapt again as I am learning more and more about what parts work for me, what seem to map best to my experience, what seems to work metaphorically….


This is about becoming my own guide, allowing what I know up here (in head) and here (in heart) and here (arms waving around) to all braid together the way my life journey always has… it is not about choosing this journey, since none of us would choose grief.

It is about choosing to notice the gifts (to notice there are gifts), the surprise of hearing myself speak out loud, so many things so long unspoken… it is about facing this, finally, in some ways I have never dared …. it is about the surprise of new friends and connections, forged, yes, in conversations about stone.

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