Who I am.

I write about the landscape of grief, nature, and the wisdom of fools. The author of four books, my essays, poems, and reviews have been published in over 50 journals, including in the Huffington Post and Colorado Review. I’ve won the River Teeth Nonfiction Book Award, the Chautauqua and Literal Latte’s essay prizes, and my work has been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes and named a notable by Best American Essays. My account of hiking in Yosemite to deal with my wife’s death, Mountains of Light, was published by the University of Nebraska Press. http://www.markliebenow.com.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Walking the Desert Road

Monday People

Those who grieve feel like Saturday people, in the Christian Holy Week lexicon of events. They wait in the dark, uncertain space between death and life, between the despair of Good Friday and the joy of Easter Sunday, finding it hard to believe that anything is left, because everywhere they look, they see destruction and emptiness.

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2 comments:

  1. Thank you for this one, Mark. I find a desert, then oasis, then more desert when I hoped the oasis would go on and on. I have not found a new harbor--or place at the table--that feels trustworthy and constant. Of course, memory idealizes what life was like before a loss, but there was always the one person to turn to in difficult moments. Independence feels overrated this morning. Another walk? More meditation? Just feeling what is?

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    1. I'm thankful that both of us kept journals during grief, because memory does idealize the past. The journals keep us honest. Yes, such joy when that first oasis appears. And then more desert. But then another oasis. Not having that one other person who is always there is hard. A walk? Yes. Meditation? Yes - feel deeply what is, breathe, and release.

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