Pushcart Prize Nomination

 

I’m thrilled to share this news with you! 

Under the Sun literary journal chose my essay as one of its nominations for the Pushcart Prize. 

The essay recounts my hike up to the top of Clouds Rest in Yosemite, at nearly 10,000 feet, when I was trying to find a place of acceptance after the death of my wife Evelyn:

Steven Church – “Pooling Resources”

Ren Cedar Fuller – “Naming My Father

Wes Lee – “Maybe Tomorrow”

Mark Liebenow – “Walking West with a Mountain”

Kathleen Melin – “Strangely Wonderful”

Elaine Palencia – “Right Here with E.T.”

You can read the essay at this link:

 https://underthesunonline.com/wordpress/2023/683-2

Mark Liebenow writes about nature, grief, and wisdom of fools. The author of four books, his essays, poems, and critical reviews have been published in numerous literary journals. His work has been named a notable by Best American Essays and nominated for four Pushcart Prizes. Mark has won the River Teeth Nonfiction Book Award, and the Chautauqua and Literal Latte’s essay prizes. He studied English at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and creative nonfiction at Bradley University. markliebenow.com

Walking West with Grief essay

New Essay Published!

 

I’m delighted to share the news that one of my essays about hiking in Yosemite to deal with my wife’s death was published this week by Under the Sun Literary Journal.

 

It’s called “Walking West with a Mountain,” and you can read it using this link:

 

https://underthesunonline.com/wordpress/2023/683-2/

 

Finding Refuge from a Broken Heart

             In the first months after the death of a loved one, grief walks with our hearts 24 hours a day. Often it confronts us and says “Pay attention.” Throughout the first year our hearts feel heavy, battered, drained, and it’s hard to care about much of anything. 

            When the pounding on our hearts becomes too much, and our friends are frustrated trying to answer our questions that have no answers, where do we find refuge? Movies, sports, yoga?

 

Grief Is a Wild Place

    

         Grief is a wild place.

 

            We like the idea of the wilderness because it’s unknown, and because what we know isn’t enough to calm our monkey minds. We need to believe that there is more to life than what we perceive on the surface, and the wilderness spurs our imagination—of primal fears, yes, but also of beauty, hope, and transcendence.

 

Grief is a wilderness. An ocean. A desert. A dark forest.

 

Solace of Nature

Whenever grief knotted me up, I headed for nature. Breathing the fresh air of the mountains, wandering through the woods, or sauntering along a river, uncluttered my mind and reopened my heart.

Nature asked little of me. It accepted me as I was, and invited me to share its community.

I could sit beside a river for hours and let the sounds of the undulating water soothe my struggles. I could wander in the forest’s shadows when the brightness of the day became too much. As I hiked over the mountains, I could physically work out my anger, frustrations, and find moments of happiness that pushed back against despair.

The Freedom of Walking

Walking is an act of freedom.

Taking a break from writing, I go out for a walk. This time I’m not heading into the woods. I’m walking on the streets of the neighborhoods around me. Literally. Some have no sidewalks. Some don’t even have a shoulder, and I have to step in the ditch when cars approach. 

Hiking With Kierkegaard

To understand the wilderness (and grief), we have to hike into it. 

My essay at Redux Journal.

http://www.reduxlitjournal.com/2017/06/235-hiking-with-kierkegaard-by-mark.html

Hiking Through Grief

            When men grieve, they often need to do something physical to help them along. Some men build things with their hands. I go hiking. My goal each day was to reach a scenic viewpoint, but more importantly I wanted to find a place along the way where I connected to something solid and real.

            In the months after my wife’s death, home was an unending flurry of details, doubts and despair, and I was unable to focus on anything for very long. Buddhism calls this “monkey mind,” when hundreds of thoughts are screeching, chattering, and jumping around, wanting my attention.

Hiking Through Grief with Philosophers

One of my grief essays was published in the Chautauqua literary journal. It’s called “Hiking with Kierkegaard,” and it’s about going to Yosemite to hike with grief and philosophers. Its subtitle is: “The Philosophical Struggle Between the Idea and the Experience of Nature: A Debate Informed by Goethe, Wittgenstein, Kierkegaard, the Velveteen Rabbit, and Shaped by an Actual Hike to the Top of El Capitan.” 




One of the points in the essay is that we do not see everything about reality on our own. We need the help of others to see the rest, and to become aware of what is going on in the background and under the surface, both in nature and in grief.