Day 4: Decker West Hills extended loop, 37 miles
My work these days is to let go. To stop distracting myself from the pain I carry, to allow the grief to move through me, the grief and the fear and the rage. And then to let it go. Along with the many, many losses I have experienced in the last few years.
And how I love to distract myself. Through addiction, through work, through obsession, through fantasy, through longing, through aching, through waiting for something else to happen, for someone else to show up. To make me feel better. To take away this pain.
My distraction is so compelling, to the degree that I don’t even know I am doing this. Don’t even see that I am missing the present moment. The beauty which is all around me, right now. Even at my feet.
Tonight I have a vivid dream of Zach, sitting at my bar. He is waiting for me while a large crowd is leaving the restaurant, musicians and fans I assume. I grab him and hug him so tight. I say, “Zach! I’m so glad you’re here. Do you know what happened?” Asking him if he knew he had died.
“Yes” Zach says, he knows what happened. And he is sorry. Sorry that he’d left, sorry that he’d died. I hug him even tighter and awake!
Awake to a start. Alone. Tears welling.
Thank you again, Zach. For another reminder. To love the ones I have, now, in the present moment. Not wait for someone else to show up, for something else to happen.
To love the beauty at my feet.