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.

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Always the Limp?




CS Lewis wrote that dealing with grief was like adjusting to life with one leg amputated. He said that your whole way of life changes, and that while you may get around pretty well, you will probably walk with a limp and have recurrent pain for the rest of your life. He didn’t think that he would ever be a biped again.

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4 comments:

  1. This post really resonated with me today. For three and a half years I lived a life of a hermit, and of a person who was expecting someone to come home, but they never did... Some part of me knew I couldn't live like that forever and I bought a card at a check stand with the quote "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." I was nowhere near that day. I am now, and I am trying to figure out what is left of what I was, and how to merge that with what I am. My logical mind says this is possible. The reality is that it's hard in a whole other way. Time will tell, as it always does I guess.

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  2. What a neat quote! But I could see why it was more pain than comfort in the beginning. If you look at the cover of my Yosemite book, I took that photo and it was my card. I took it at a time when I couldn't feel much of anything, but I knew that image was important to hold on to, that one day the light would reach me as I stood in the darkness. Gradually, when I had the choice, and I gave myself permission, I thought about what I'd like to do that day, and I did it. The next day, the same thing. No long range plans or changes, just day to day. And I began to find out who I still was by what I was wanting to do.

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  3. Well, the part of you that has survived and is writing his heart out sounds like a wonderful person. Maybe you don't have to worry about what's left from before. That you are reaching out to others in pain is a big part of being alive. If it doesn't feel alive, forgive yourself. The ones we love and lost take us to all sorts of places we might never have imagined for ourselves. I think it's best to go with the flow. It's change and growth. It's taking the gifts our beloveds left us and making them part of ourselves. It's love. We need to love ourselves a little more even if we don't recognize who we are or where we're going after loss.

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  4. I really like what you said - that we take the gifts our beloveds left us and make them part of ourselves. I do like to think that I am helping others in ways that Evelyn would.

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