Oh Good Grief

When I set out on my road trip, I had a decent sized list of intentions. I intended to spend time with dear friends across the miles, explore the country's vast landscapes and cultures, be able to identify more trees and plants, write more, meet family I haven't met before, explore options for re-locating, work/volunteer my services along the way, and to allow myself some space to grieve the loss of my father.

This last intention was a bit elusive. I didn't really know how to "accomplish grieving" as I don't know that you can say "Today it is. Today I will grieve." Though I tried this. I'm task-oriented. I wanted to put the task on the list, bullet the executive actions to accomplish the task, then check it off.  Grieved Loss of Dad - CHECK. For those of you reading that, like me, enjoy having control of the reins most of the time, grief is an incredible teacher. And also perhaps, the teacher whose house you might egg and toilet paper in the dark of the night because, well, Fuck Off, you challenging, instigating teacher of my least favorite topic.

Maaaine. Good ol' Maine delivered a WWF move into a grief lock-and-hold that would make Hulk Hogan tinkle in his star-spangled leotard. And given it would be quite cumbersome to egg and TP an entire state, especially one with 3,500 miles alone of coastline, I had little choice but to surrender.

Maine feels like a kindred friend. In many ways, it reminds me of Newfoundland, my father's land of heritage. Have you ever had a sensation like this with a place? It felt so good. And it felt emotional.  Sometimes for me, any cobwebs or shadows in me thrust forward when in the presence of a kindred friend. I have a friend with whom I often cry within moments of our get together. What relief it is in being with someone who really sees me and loves me all the same. And also, what a party-starter for all those secrets and insecurities hiding in the internal crevices, craving to be seen and heard! I felt this with Maine. As I flew from Washington state to Maine, the turbulence seemed to jostle my grief from its hiding place, it slowly but surely making its way to the surface as I touched down in Portland. And in event my controlling self tried to quell what surfaced, I met a few Mainers that helped keep me on track in touching more deeply into the well.

I generally operate under the spiritual principles of "everything in its time" and "what happens is meant to be." I feel Maine's landscape and zeitgeist, and some special people I met while visiting were instrumental in really getting in touch with losing my dad, and with some deep-seated grief I was carrying for quite some time. And the one-two punch of it all was exactly what this control freak  needed to really surrender into it.

Grief has been an incredible teacher, and the diploma is a ticket to living more expansively and fearlessly.