Dedicated to my Mark, my meditation teacher. This altar is filled with the number four. Representing the four years he sat with me weekly. The time we hiked and he faced the four cardinal directions and said, “There’s different energy in each direction.” I foraged mallow and dandelion and placed them around the center. These plants are often seen as weeds, but are in fact, medicinal plants that aid with digestion and immunity. In our work together, he taught me the weeds of life (pain/death/suffering) can be powerful portals of healing if we learn to see them differently.
If you’ve ever experienced grief, you know how numb and disconnected it makes you feel. What if we could weave our inner and outer landscapes- our memories and stories and nature- into meaningful beauty?
Yesterday I had the privilege of sharing the sacred practice of Morning Altars as a way to remember and honor our loved ones. I asked each member of the group to wonder and wander in nature, and find memories of their loved one in the leaves, branches, flowers, berries, mushrooms, stones or feathers. The natural world holds memory and can help us call them back to us. I was drawn to the symbolism of the plants themselves. Ivy, always climbing walls and growing upwards and sideways, similar to the way my love for Mark continues to grow even though he is no longer here. And the bright color of berries, a reminder that sweetness can be experienced even in times of grief.
We sought out beauty and symbols generously offered by nature. Arranged them in a meaningful way, speaking directly to our loved ones as we wove memories and stories into our altar. It was a way of making a map of meaning. Re-membering, in every sense of the word.
Recognizing the abundance that exists all around us. Even in the dead of winter. Even in the depths of grief.
This practice is an invitation to pay attention to what’s here, all around us. To gather the fragments of nature and our hearts. Arrange them in a meaningful way. Then offer it all up. Let it go. And let it be.