“And now, my poor old woman, why are you crying so bitterly? It is autumn. The leaves are falling from the trees like burning tears - the wind howls. Why must you mimic them?”
― Mervyn Peake, Titus Groan
So early as the leaves do fall
A dear client passed away from cancer. Another received a diagnosis of the same disease, as did a friend of mine from high school--her third in less than a year. A different client lost her four-month-old grandchild. I am near to losing my beloved canine companion of over sixteen years. One of my dearest friends failed in her first IVF attempt. Robin Williams, one of the most brilliant comics of our lifetime, remains only in memory and film.
I have, quite honestly, lost track of the number of grieving, suffering people in my life.
What they never think of is that they are there to watch the leaves die.
As morbid as that sounds, there is a quiet elegance in it as well. For it is at this time that the leaves are their most authentic selves, at their most individual and most beautiful.
I try to remember this . . .
. . . but it is not always easy.
For those of you who choose massage as a self-care tool during times of grief, be aware that you may benefit from changing your usual modality. If you generally prefer to receive deep, specific work, try instead a more nurturing massage, with long, flowing strokes. These relaxing techniques are designed to calm and sedate the nervous system, helping to provide respite from stress.
There's plenty of time to get beat up later. For once, let someone else take care of you. And if you can't turn off the tears or stop your brain from making lists, it's okay.
Be well, and I hope to see you soon.