When grief comes, sounds go mute, the world fills with shadows, and we feel cold all the time.
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.
Showing posts with label Despair. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Despair. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
Wednesday, January 17, 2018
Dark Night of Grief
Dark Night 1 of 4: Shattered Illusions
Many people feel uncomfortable when they’re alone in the darkness, even when they’re standing in their own backyard and watching the stars at midnight. It’s as if the darkness can’t be trusted and this is where nasty creatures live. Like Thomas Merton, I find presence and solace watching the stars in the dark hours before dawn. This is when words of inspiration come, and meditation deepens.
With grief, however, when the darkness lingered for longer than I thought it should, and dawn did not come, I began to feel uneasy.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Writing a Requiem: Liturgizing Grief
Journal entry 7
Thoughts of writing a requiem
for Evelyn resurface. I pushed them away earlier because I heard that the
stress of composing a requiem after his father’s death is what some think did
Mozart in, trying to express the depths of grief and comprehend why the loss
was so devastating.
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