Without Direction

Without direction: 

this grief isn't separate from me, it's not so much a visitor as it is my own company, an aspect of myself shared with my father through a lifetime of care and last days spent in a ritual of tenderness, a showing of how fragile life can be. This grief is deeper than a mood, not a passing phase given to what's lost, it's who I am now without my father, an edge point of familiar territory and the vast expanse of uncertainty that lies before me. 

this grief is simply love without direction.

and this is what I most welcome, of being lost and not in need of being shown a way through, not concerned with reaching the other side of sorrow. This is where I find myself, life expressed through grief in all its varied moments, capable of sudden joy as well as subtle shades loss. What I'm shown now is the true way of love, that it's always been without direction, receiving itself in whatever present form that happens to appear. 

it's here, this directionless love, where I find my father, and more so a realization of what's always been present. Nothing is truly lost, and yet grief is deep in memory of previous forms, it doesn't urge a letting go of what once was, but to surrender to the fresh appearance that life now shows. I am only asked to love what's present and this is all inclusive, from memories of past to the uncertainty of future. Everything belongs. 

this grief isn't separate from me, it's no a guest that demands my welcome - it's my own expression of the moment, love, directionless, and free to roam through vast expanse of all I truly am. Yes, I'm lost now, uncertain, and there is no other possible place for me to be. 

I am most truly found...

without direction. 

~

Peace, Eric