When grief knots me up, I
head for nature. Breathing the fresh air of the mountains pulls me out of my
funk.
Nature demands nothing of me. It accepts me as I am.
Nature goes about its life and
provides openings for me to participate as I want. I can sit beside a river for
hours and let the sounds of the undulating water soothe my sorrow. I can wander
in the forest’s cool shadows when the heat and brightness of the sun become too
much. Or I can tromp across a mountain and physically work out my anger and
frustrations.
