The Lost Pond is a wilded sanctuary space that spans the border between Newton and Brookline, MA. It includes long, meandering trails, a kettle hole, and a quaking bog. A section of the surrounding woods was recently remediated because of its proximity to the (now closed) town dump. I call this site ‘The Clearing’. When our beautiful, vibrant son Lucas unexpectedly died in his sleep in 2017, we made a provisional shrine in the adjacent woods with sticks and flowers along the trail to Lost Pond. It continues to be a site of pilgrimage for us.
I began inviting people to walk with me through the trails of the Lost Pond in 2019. The invitation was for something other than an ordinary walk. It was to join me on an audio walk I made in collaboration with my musician friends. It involves walking while listening to geo-located music, sounds, and songs, along with live storytelling and trail guiding by me. It’s called the RADIO SILENCE audio-walk. By now, I have guided this audio walk hundreds of times, with all kinds of walking companions, through all sorts of crazy weather. It has become a repetitive grief ritual for me, pressing my feet repeatedly into the soft, well-worn ground of mourning.
This fall, I released the Book of Walks, a quiet and reflective log book about my experience guiding the audio walks.* I’d like to share five things I learned, trodding across remediated land and witnessing renewal in all forms.
- Sometimes, you just need to be silent. As a guide or friend, it’s okay to be the container, not the entertainer.
- The path through grief is best not walked alone. For some, there is a tendency to isolate, to retreat. We may not be able to rejoin the world as we did before. How could we? But it’s important to reach out, to find support in the community, in what Richard Rohr calls the ‘second half’ of life (in his book Falling Upward).
- The word “should” is no good. If you feel compelled to use it, try to flip it into a question for yourself first. For example, turn “You should go outside and get some fresh air.” into “Should I go outside and get some fresh air?”. And from there, you might open the question with an invitation: “Would you like to come with me to get some fresh air?”.
- Sometimes, you just need to talk to someone who doesn’t know you. This is what provisional community provides: a relationship that can be whatever it needs to be in the moment. To help you process something that might be too heavy for a friend or family member to carry. The Children’s Room support groups offer this community for grieving families.
- Resiliency is modeled in nature. It can be inspiring and also painful to witness. When ‘The Clearing’ was razed of all its shrubs, trees, and earth, Lucas died the same week. We saw and heard it happening. Now, each time I step into that vast open space, I see that the new tree plantings are taller, the grasses and native plants more wild. Everything slowly growing there is as old as Lucas is gone. I’m reminded that new growth is tender and beautiful but looks nothing like what was there before.
This entry is by Deb Todd Wheeler, author of The Book of Walks. The Book of Walks is an edited logbook from RADIO SILENCE, the guided, geo-located walk through the trails of the Lost Pond. Proceeds from the Book of Walks benefit The Children’s Room
Click here to pre-order The Book of Walks and to learn more.
Photo by Kelly Davidson
