If death has shown up in your life at a relatively young age, there’s a good chance you dread the future.
Especially in early grief, the thought of decades of life stretching out in front of you might be the exact opposite of comforting.
All those years ahead.
Those decades out ahead are full of emptiness. Life feels entirely too long. And if those decades are ever not full of emptiness, what would that say about you? That you just somehow “moved on”? Neither of those options sound good.
This week for your Friday personal post, a message from somewhere inside my first year of grief. I knew I needed to move my body, to stop the sinking lethargy of grief and disinterest that had settled into my bones.
But, as you will read below, the side-benefit of improving my health was a hindrance, not a good thing.
Writing without the deeply personal is not the whole story of grief. To give the whole story, we need to hear personal stories.
This week, my early grief reluctance to add years to my life:
I observed mysore-style yoga practice today. Watched a man in the class move through a series of arm balances, and had Matt flash through my mind. He was so amazing to watch move.
I lost it, watching this other man move like that, and matt not here anymore. And, it was nice to see him do those sequences again, to see him move again. And it sucked.
I went because I’m considering starting practice again. But I hesitate to do anything that might make me have to be here a long time, or increase my odds of longevity.
Matt was in awesome shape. His physical practice was important while he was here, but it didn’t predict a future. Being in great shape didn’t keep him alive. You go when you go. So there is that.
Awhile ago, I heard a preacher on the radio saying how only god says how long we will be here. You don’t exercise to prolong your life; your longevity is none of your business. You exercise to be the best channel, the best vessel, for god you can be.
I’ve been avoiding running and yoga because – what if I clean up my vessel, and my core is still not there. If my “before” methods of connecting don’t help, man, then I am screwed.
No – honest truth, I am afraid I will make my channel clear, and my connection with matt won’t be there. I’ll get all strong and healthy and I won’t feel him more clearly, and he will really be gone. There will just be nothing.
Nowhere to hide.
Shit. Well now, that is odd to say in such a public space, but there it is, and I am going to leave it.
I am considering committing to this yoga practice – a minimum of three times a week, two hour sessions, for at least a month. That is what the studio requires.
The physical challenge, I can do. It’s all the rest of it.
It’s an experiment. I think I am okay with it, as long as I’m not inadvertently prolonging my time here by doing it.
What I’ve got right now is – my channel is definitely clogged and stormy. I can try cleaning it up a little and see what happens. I’m afraid to lose more, but should probably try anyway.
Clogged up vessel = pretty small chance of connection with anything; cleaned up vessel = ??? Who knows.
How about you, my readers? Have you avoided doing anything that might inadvertently, or directly, lengthen your life-span? Have you steered away from practices that might drop you in to your core, afraid that you will find nothing left? Let us know in the comments.