i have to stare into space like a zen master to keep these emotions at bay. my koan is to not completely evaporate at work. in a sane world we would get time off for grieving. i would be able to be at his side during the whole process. instead i have to work and support myself. in a way this may be ultimately beneficial–the world is nature, after all, and nature is scary. nature always gets you when you least expect it. nature is the mountain lion hiding in the brush. and in a way grief is complacency, grief is putting blinders on to focus on a specific problem. i don’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just how it is. when you grieve you might wish the world to slow down or stop, so you can, you know, grieve. but no matter what you do or what happens to you, life goes on. it never stops, it never gives you a chance to breathe. you bury your dead or live without part of your essential organs, you lose a leg or an arm, you suffer horrendous burns, and you keep living. you still wake up, brush your teeth, take a shit, eat mcdonalds, swear at traffic jams, smile at a dumb joke. that’s the grace of the world, the leniency of it: it doesn’t stop and it doesn’t mind that you have to keep going. it doesn’t fault you for having a life.
my eyes hurt from repressing tears. i didn’t even know that was possible. i walk out in the cold during my lunch break because the cold feels good today, and the city is drab and gray in the daylight, and that palette comforts me, like sensory deprivation. it’s as if the world knows what i’m going through and shut off the color for a bit to keep me sane. in this i realize that the earth is rooting for us. it knows that nature is scary and that time is meaningful for humans, and it helps us out a bit. i appreciate that.