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.

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

I Have Seen Enough Death

I have seen enough DEATH, with its dry, rugged canyons, to be weary of life and the constant worry about when the next shoe will drop. The deaths of a wife, parents, friends, and beloved pets have made me wary of letting myself love anyone this deeply again.

            I have felt enough GRIEF to know that almost everyone is mourning some LOSS. Almost everyone is struggling to make sense of a death that has taken a loved one away. Almost everyone is worn out by the constant waves of SORROW and DESPAIR, and we want the dying to end.


            Around the evening campfire, I gather with others, for in the community of grievers there is LIFE. Because of death, we know how precious BREATH is, and we are grateful to have each other in this broken time. We share our lives and hear the stories of struggle and hard-fought triumphs. As I listen, I realize that in our lives there are still mountains of BEAUTY and rivers of STRENGTH that sustain us, in places where others expected only devastation and defeat. 

            As the evening goes on, we move to the rhythm of the earth, to the soft beat of a drum, and we chant words of defiance to the night that surrounds us. Stirring the embers, we rekindle the fires of resistance that burn in our HEARTS

            I have felt enough SOUL to know that among us there are meadows of COMPASSION where we find solace. People come who do not need to do so, put a blanket over our shoulders, and sit with us through the long, cold nights as we watch the moon and the great constellations travel on their ancient paths through the dark, noetic sky.

            I have experienced enough HOPE because we are picking ourselves up and yelling that Death isn’t going to be the last word or have the last dance. And because we fight for each other, and this will never end.

            I have seen enough COURAGE in my companions in grief, who rebel against the naysayers and the doomplayers, against the soft-heart-haters and the sympathy-fakers, because we choose not to die in grief, but live with LOVE.

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