Come On In
An Invitation to Grief
Sadness arrived this afternoon with a furtive knock at my door. I was comfy on my couch and did not want to arise. Did not want to greet her. I wanted to remain alone. She kept knocking and said, quietly but sternly, through the door-- the outside wind-worn, but still protecting what lives inside-- "I am not alone. And I have brought a casserole of grief." Without arising I peeked out the curtained window separating me from her, separating me from all that accompanied her. In her small, cautious hands I saw a covered dish and beside her stood Anger. "Would you really keep a guest waiting," she asked. "Would you unwelcome a visitor at your door in need of comfort?" I have no comfort to offer you, I replied to myself. "You are unnourished. Let us feed you. Let us serve you." And I became aware of the emptiness in my belly, the hollowness of my bones. I felt the heavy weight of soul hunger bearing down upon my chest. I arose. I opened the door. I invited them in. Come, I shall make us some tea. Come, accompany me. Sit with me. Sadness lay upon my floor. Anger moved restlessly about my room. And I, I sat on my comfy couch and plunged my face into a casserole of grief. We shared a cup of tea and I let them stay. For as long as I needed them.
May you be happy.
May you be healthy.
May you be safe.
May you live with ease.
Namaste


These lines:
“Sadness lay upon my floor.
Anger moved restlessly about my room.”
Take care of yourself and your visitors, Ashley 🤍
Truthful, insightful, healing. Sending love to you Ashley