Take Me to Church

I'm not a religious person. Spiritual maybe, I believe in inherent human goodness and the golden rule. I'm fairly convinced that after this week if I did believe in a god I would be pissed off. But I don't, and I'm not. I'm sad, still disbelieving that a week ago my child lived a different life. A friend said this week, that while life isn't fair, this seems inequitable. And it is, but I can't believe it was for any reason or failure of positive thought or visioning for my life.

 Fuck you, The Secret. Yeah, you. I'm talking about you. 

Anyway, it is a thing. It has happened. In the scheme of the universe and billions of stars it is tiny, and we are insignificant, and it is this thing that happened, and we are now moving forward into it and with it.

It's out in the universe, our natural world, that I feel most connected to whatever it is that we are a part of. In the spaces where elements meet, toes in sand and water, in the thin air that meets ancient rock at a mountain top... That's my church, my breath is my prayer. I went out for a paddle this morning, just me and the wind and birds. I really thought that would be the time I could cry, on my knees as my legs can't hold me. It feels like that, this week. I learned today that the tears won't come until I know they will stop. I'm not ready to grieve this. Not yet. That would make it really real in my heart.