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, June 23, 2015

Kindness of Cemeteries



I went over to the graveyard. … This grief had something in it of generosity, some nearness to joy. … This country would always be populated with presence and absences … the living and the dead.     Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow

Fingers brush the rough stones and find names my eyes cannot. Faint chisel marks and lives have eroded to sand in this old part of the cemetery. Syllables of Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the last. Reminders of what has been and hopes for what might come. These bones are now a paler shade of white. The cold, tattered scraps of sorrow drift away on the wind. The knock, knock, knocking on Heaven’s door.

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4 comments:

  1. Beautiful, Mark. I gained perspective, gratitude, and a sense of peace during hours walking in Mount Hope Cemetery while Vic was hospitalized for long periods. One phrase in this caught me: "forgetful earth." I can't bear to think of the earth as forgetful, although on one level it us. I agree with Wendell Berry that the earth holds the presence of the dead. She remembers what needs to be remembered.

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    1. "Forgetful earth" This phrase showed up when I was writing, and it made me pause and think. So I kept it. I don't think the earth knows or holds any of the stories or experiences of the person buried, but we do, when we stand by the grave. And yet, returning to the soil is like coming home. What needs to be remembered, she remembers, as you say.

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  2. It made me pause. I see both sides and like that. After Vic died, as I walked in the forest, I imagined how many people those old oaks had seen come and go--not to speak of the rocks. I am at heart, a dualist, Jungian, and also deeply connected to Plotinus's image of Soul. The Divisible Soul connected to nature and the Indivisible Soul connected to Nous. And so I can never truly call myself a Buddhist. I love the concept of Soul.

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    1. I like to think of the Earth as a living being. I like thinking that all we are and all the awareness that we come to realize in our lives are not lost but are added to the growing, collective wisdom. You have given me more to think about, Elaine. Thank you.

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