Autumn Newsletter: Apprenticing with Slowness

It is deep Autumn in the Pacific Northwest. My intention was to write this newsletter soon after the equinox passed, but enamored with cooler and shorting days, Leaves riotous shift in color schemes, Rain’s thunderous return and my own deepening “apprenticeship with slowness,” one week fell into another and, well, here we are.

My body exhaled when Summer finally left the scene (though there was a pale pink Rose in the neighborhood that was still offering spicy, peppery scents until it was cut back to my astonishment just a few days ago. After all, I wasn’t done with my daily “sniffs.”) Summer was difficult for me. I wrote about my malaise on Substack: “merging with the deepening of autumn.” These days Sun skims morosely along the Tree line as if annoyed at not being the star of the show. On cloudless days, Sun glares through windshields and shows all the dirty streaks on kitchen windows, a reminder of its brilliance. And I appreciate its gentle warming of my abode. No need to turn on the heat. We call a truce.

Summer Newsletter: Navigating Summer with Grief

In my neighborhood we are now fully into the rhythm of Summer. Those frenetic mating Bird songs of Spring that precede Sun’s early risings have eased into parental lessons. They tend toward later starts and a softer urgency. There is so much as a parent to be exampled on top of the instinctual nature hatched in the chicks! And as mid-July crests, I imagine those who hatch two families each Summer have already fledged brood number one and are well on the way to parenting number two.

Weaving Grief Into Our Enchanted Lives

Do you suppose small birds mourn? That, as their wee ones start out as four bodies emerging wet from beige, palest turquoise, and brown speckled eggs, one mouth seeming to crave life from the get-go while the others curl around the deep hearth of nest, waiting to stretch toward light, their parents ready to feed, to nurture, do they begin instinctual hoping? Do you wonder if, as the nest dwindles to one, they search for the lost or keep a keener eye on the ever-open mouth of the one remaining? Do they take time to sing a lament from the bow of the fir for the ones that never flew? And when, one morning after a night of tending, warming, they return for first feed to discover the one gone, no mouth to fill, too soon to fledge, do they weep bird tears? Do they rend their feathers? I wonder. I wonder.

Anne Richardson

February 26, 2021

Grief and Loss, Grief and Loss Workshops, Grief, Grief Journey, Lament, Mother Ocean, My Mentor Grief, Pandemic, Seasons, spiriutal companionship, unanticipated loss, Winter

Lessons from the Pandemic: Isn't Every Loss Worthy of Grieving?

Anne Richardson

February 26, 2021

Grief and Loss, Grief and Loss Workshops, Grief, Grief Journey, Lament, Mother Ocean, My Mentor Grief, Pandemic, Seasons, spiriutal companionship, unanticipated loss, Winter

If you have followed me for a while, you have met “The Sisters,” a circle of Big Leaf maples that I visit on my morning walks. A spiritual connection that has deepened since they reached out to me five years ago. They strengthen my rootedness to Earth, helped me prepare for my sojourn in 2019, are a source of wisdom that I share with you. Our relationship is reciprocal—my offering being love, respect, singing them songs, sharing poems and listening.

Anne Richardson, M.A. is a Board Certified Chaplain, Certified Veriditas Labyrinth Facilitator, Certified Spiritual Director and poet. Read more...

Looking for something in a previous blog post?

Want to receive my newsletter and updates?

Get in touch

Have more questions?

Weaving Grief Into Our Enchanted Lives

Lessons from the Pandemic: Isn't Every Loss Worthy of Grieving?

Subscribe

Get in touch

For Individuals

For Professionals

Labyrinth

Helpful

Social