We are in the time on the Hebrew Calendar between the 17th of Tammuz and the 9th of Av. On the 17th of Tammuz, the walls of the temple in Jersualem were breached, and on the 9th of Av both the first and second the temples were destroyed. These weeks on the calendar are a time of designated mourning. As we approached the 17th of Tammuz earlier this month, I took myself to nature and breached the temple walls of my grief so that I could enter the holy of holies - my heart.
Over the course of a few days, I walked in the redwoods, I swam in the saline pool, I sat with the mountain every morning and every evening, and I took myself to the ocean. I slowed it all down and engaged in a practice of Embodying Nature* (a somatic-expressive process developed by Jamie McHugh for attuning to self and the natural world) as a resource for embracing and feeling my broken heart.
My grief is this ocean. Like the ocean, my grief cannot be captured in a drawing, a photograph or written word. All of my drawings of the ocean are similar - layers of sand, surf and sky on a page that stops. However, the feeling I have when I am there is the opposite— the long views, the feeling of space that extends on and on - in front of me behind me, surrounding me - cannot be captured with my oil pastels and paper. The ocean is the part of me that is infinite, beyond the bounds of time, space and form. And like grief, the surf sounds never stop, but the waves of intensity come and go.
My grief is this mountain. Something solid to bump up against, there is an edge and a boundary to the lines of the mountain as it backdrops against the sapphire sky with the full moon nearby. The majestic mountain gives shape to my grief, and calls forth in me the strength and solidness of my being. The rising ridges in front of me, the density of the trees in my view, along with the chirping birds in the trees and skirting lizards on the ground, I feel myself as a body-being, receiving and taking into myself the experience of being in a body, on this earth, with this land.
When I sit long enough with the elements of nature - the mountain, the ocean, the sand, the trees - over time I come back into contact with the deepest part of myself. These elements all live inside of me, and they each sing back to me a different melody of my grief song. The mountains mirror the qualities of solidity, steadiness and strength that I need to embrace and hold my grief. The ocean evokes the turbulence, aliveness, and power of my grief. The sand invites me to be comforted in my grief; to rest and settle, my animal body drinking in the soft warmth of the sand. And the trees, the trees, the trees. They breathe back my life to me, they tower over me, and they shade me. They are my companions and friends, longstanding loving and kind witnesses through time as I walk on my path.
These nature elements are eternal and never-ending, offering to me a greater holding into which I can rest and mirror the essence of my grief - the love that is deep and long and wide; beyond description, comprehension or expression.
Amazingly, the month of Av also brings us the holiday of Tu B'Av, a celebration of love, just six days after the 9th. Whether we are in mourning and/or facing loss in our lives, or celebrating the beauty, strength and goodness of this world, our hearts can always find a resting place in the nature elements that mirror what we are feeling within.
I send wishes for each of you to have some time to lean into nature, into your own being and into your love for this world as we approach the month of Av this Shabbat, and as we move through these summer months.
If you also have the chance to take a break (not all of us do), may all that we experience in our times of rest and retreat cultivate courage, strength and inspiration to bring forth the positive impact and change where it is most needed in our world.