There’s Joy Here
I read the news, so I know. Children are starving in Gaza and Ukraine. In Ethiopia and Nigeria and the slums of Mexico and on the border of my country. There is no clean water or safety or protection for refuges of any age. The world is cruel and frightening.
I live an unusually peaceful and protected life in an area without war or famine. I’m grateful for the beauty and peace surrounding me while remembering the brutality others endure every day. I know how fortunate I am.
Yesterday, a large Eastern Swallowtail Butterfly, cream colored with orange and blue spots on her back wing, sipped nectar from a Dame’s Rocket. She’s the first large spring butterfly to hold still long enough for me to take a photo. Purple Lupines bloom extravagantly, by the thousands, in my fields, coloring my mornings purple.
Lupines lead me to personal grief I’ve written about many times before. A natural grief that comes from being mortal, not a grief imposed by human cruelty or the withholding of food and freedom. My kind of grief is guaranteed if we fall in love in this impermanent world.
My husband Vic died just after midnight on June 3, 2008. It was a relief when he could stop gasping for breath and relax into the inevitable. My son drove me home the next morning as sun rose over green fields. I was surprised to feel joy on this saddest day, but Nature surrounded the grief with musical color. It was hopeful grief, not hopeless grief. It was grief filled with pink dawn, pale green leaves, and bird song. It was grief filled with love.
A few days later, my friend who was with us when Vic died joined me for a walk. The fields bloomed purple with Lupines reaching above my knees.
“I wish Vic could see these,” I said. I wanted to share the flowers with him as I had in 2007 when we walked these paths together, as I had when we first planted Lupines at least twenty years ago. I wanted him to see how the Lupines keep spreading as they have for many years. I still want him to see them now, 16 years later, as more Lupines show up in surprising places where we didn’t plant them.
“Life is good,” the Lupines insist. “Give yourself a rest from the suffering of the world, just for today. Look how beautiful we are!”
On my walk, I kneel down in the trail and cut a few dark purple flowers blowing in the wind. I carry them as an offering to the woodland cairn my sons built to cover Vic’s ashes.
There is much pain in the world, but grief doesn’t stand alone. “Just look,” the Lupines shout. “There is joy here. Don’t forget the joy.”
***
How do you honor grief and the loss of those and what you love? A friend wrote me about the need to howl, and I think I could use a little howling to honor grief and the pain of the world. For other articles about grief and loss, see Healed by Nature, Inspired by Love. For other posts about Lupines and the book “The Lupine Lady,” see The Half Life of Love: Eight Years Later.
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June 12, 2024 at 11:41 am
Lauren Cottrell Banner
Although I caught a few of the lupine that were just starting on my visit, I missed the grand riot of a display. I remember when you gave up gardens that needed a ton of tending. “ if they grow on their own they stay, if not, well ok “. And so they have. Your burn piles have become magnificent places of transformation. From a black heap of ashes to a joyous spreading of color and happiness. One of your great gifts is to do just that. To allow the dark places to shine with the light that is within all. Without vanquishing the dark you look into it and see what is there. Taking all of life as a teacher is not always easy. You do it with grace.
June 14, 2024 at 4:40 pm
Elaine Mansfield
What a kind and generous comment, Lauren. I try to accept it all, but this latest round of illness and medical testing made me whine. I’m grateful Anthony was here and willing to drive me to many appointments. We’re done for now and, after many high tech tests, I have asthma and an inhaler for bad days. I’m trying to get an appointment with an herbalist so I can ditch the inhaler, but he’s out of town. Some days are challenging and other days are easier. It’s weather dependent and there’s nothing steady about the weather here this year. Sending love to you and your beautiful world of low humidity.
June 10, 2024 at 9:23 am
Jean Raffa
Thank you for another reminder of nature’s restorative power. It’s easy to lose sight of it here in Florida where the drought and oppressive heat (it ‘s been up to 106 degrees over the last few days) makes it difficult to enjoy the outdoors. But I have seen a few butterflies. We look forward to being in our beloved Smoky Mountains soon where the warmth will be welcome, the rains gentle, and the flowers and butterflies will spread joy everywhere.
June 11, 2024 at 3:57 pm
Elaine Mansfield
And while we praise Nature, I’ll add that she’s endlessly strange this year. It’s so cool we have no butterflies of any kind. Even the bees are in hiding. Nature is stuck in place. While you have 106 degrees, we have a damp uncomfortable high of 60. I’m glad you’ll soon make your escape to the Smoky Mountains. Here, I’ll wait it out and hope that the flowers getting used to the weather on my porches will get planted sooner or later. They always do. May you feel cool breezes.
June 8, 2024 at 1:21 pm
Lin Gregory
The sight of your lupines in bloom each year is a wonderful way to remember Vic and mark your love for him…those seeds you first planted together continue to expand and grow as a kind of symbol of his presence…his love and memories staying with you. Plants do play a part in honouring people I have lost. I rescued a rose bush when we sold my dads house after he died, he had planted it in his garden 55 years ago – 18 years on it still flowers profusely in our front garden for most of the summer and autumn months every year and I always think he would love to see that doing so well. Another plant I rescued were a pair of peonies that again are about 50 years old and they too bloom profusely every spring, bringing back joyful memories of my mums love of their rich, cerise colours. Mother nature is truly a great comforter in so many ways.
June 8, 2024 at 2:10 pm
Elaine Mansfield
I agree, Lin. The Lupines don’t allow me to forget the love. I’m glad you have your Dad’s rosebush for that same sense of continuity. And the peonies to remind you of your Mum! Mother Nature comforts and reminds us of what’s important. Thanks for sharing your stories and have a wonderful summer. I image the two of you having an adventure on your bicycles. With love and hope.
June 5, 2024 at 9:02 pm
Gita
Elaine, thank you as always for reminding us about the beauty of the earth you and Vic tended. Alas, It’s too easy for me to forget the discipline of being receptive to joy. Thank you for the reminder …. Much love and blessings to you
June 6, 2024 at 11:13 am
Elaine Mansfield
Thank you, Gita. The Lupines have been good teachers for me. Thank you for your constant and sustaining friendship. I’ll always remember you and Vic laughing together at the museum in Boston. Sending you love.
June 5, 2024 at 5:32 pm
Sarah
Thank you, Elaine, for how timely this is for me with the recent passing of my dog, Rowen. “Life manifesting or non-manifesting” … I wrote a poem about this line a year ago and it still deeply resonates. How fragile all life is on this also fragile planet , and we know it. Whether from a devastating illness or the brutality of war, Death – and the fear of separation from our loved ones – is our greatest suffering. For you to include the jOY of lupines, and the howling of wolves, warms my heart as I integrate this grief with all the days of joy shared with Rowen during our 15 years. And so I am howling with his wolf family, and feeling the joy of remembering his beauty, grace, willfullness, and sublime joy so fully expressed in leaps, tail wags, and smiles; our long walks and every time I walked into a room. The joy of these exchanges is a gift beyond measure, and may be what is missed most of all. His other teaching came later, after his death, when he returned in a lucid dream, brand new and ready to keep loving. He has chosen to be in my heart for now and I know how fully blessed I am. ” Do stand at my grave and weep. I did not die I do not sleep,” is an anomyous prayer but it might been inspired by the Joy of a beloved pet, or wolf! Howling at the Moon, yes, I will meet you there ♥️
June 6, 2024 at 11:08 am
Elaine Mansfield
Fragile life and our fragile hearts are easily broken by love. Willow who died a year ago lived to be an old lady of 14 and accompanied me through my grief after Vic’s death. Disco was a lost pup when her Mama surrogate Willow died, but now she’s glued to me and the two of us are sticking together in the good and sad times. I’m glad you’re howling for Rowen and also feel his release from suffering and pain.
I LOVE your dream. I have no idea what your usual dream life is like, but this feels like gift from your Soul from the guides surrounding you and Rowen. This feels like a once-in-a-life dream with such a clear message and teaching about how to hold grief and love after a death. I know the poem you quote, but sometimes I need to stand at Vic’s grave and weep and usually now it’s enough to feel his inner presence. I want to acknowledge your loss of not being able to nestle your fingers into Rowen’s fur and not being able to look into his eyes. I know you still feel him with you in both memory and soul and, if you forget for one minute, you have that dream. With love and gratitude for our soul animals and all they teach us.
June 5, 2024 at 8:27 am
Marian Beaman
My heart leaps up when I read that you have a butterfly that will hold still long enough for you to capture a joyful image. You have frozen a moment in time that can symbolize joy in grief. I know the lupines give you joy as well. How wonderful that they propagate! You have documented your journey through grief that you mark with a 16th anniversary post (if my math is correct). Holding you in caring hugs, Elaine.
June 5, 2024 at 11:42 am
Elaine Mansfield
Your math is perfect, Marian. It amazes me since 16 years seems like a long time, but Vic’s presence in my heart doesn’t fade. His death anniversary was an opportunity to hear from others who had memories to share of Vic. It was a sweet way to transform grief into a blessing. Sending you love and clear vision (both inner and outer).
June 5, 2024 at 5:44 pm
Marian Beaman
Thank you for the good wishes, Elaine!
June 5, 2024 at 4:23 am
Aladin Fazel
Memories, memories and memories! It is such a lovely tribute to your beloved life companion.
When Al left the earth at midnight at the end of June, I felt the same contrasting feeling kind of release. I believe it is a joint feeling from the time of suffering from disease. We both were free of pain!
Dear Elaine, There is no reason to feel fault if there is peace around you. As you mentioned, the world is cruel, and we can do nothing but pray for the lost souls. Be blessed, my dear friend.
June 5, 2024 at 11:39 am
Elaine Mansfield
Some people think forgetting is a good idea, Aladin, but I’ve never seen the value in forgetting the blessing of love. I think of you, your mom, and Al. Prolonged illness is not a hard for everyone and I don’t choose life at all costs. In January, I thought I might be at the end of my life. Instead of tumors in my lungs (they searched with that in mind), they found inflammation and asthma. I can deal with that and it’s improving. Thanks for your comment about peace. I am blessed by peaceful nature, but I remember those who suffer because I could stand in their shoes. I was given easy karma and I’m grateful. (I want to get to your site and catch up, but so much is left undone when we’re ill.)
June 5, 2024 at 12:25 am
Susan scott
Dear Elaine thank you for your latest offering. I too know that nature is a great compensation and feel a fellow kinship when another revels in the sight of a sunrise, the tweet of a bird, a butterfly fluttering by. A beautiful flower in bud or full bloom. I can only thank heaven for nature’s beauty in among the appalling detritus of the world.
June 5, 2024 at 11:30 am
Elaine Mansfield
Nature doesn’t give up on us. And you get to an occasional elephant or giraffe in the wild. That would give me faith in Nature.
June 4, 2024 at 9:39 am
Deborah Gregory
Dear Elaine,
After reading all three articles, I feel so emotional, I’m not sure words will come easily but I want to try. First of all, you’ve written with your heart in your hand my dear friend, forget the sleeve metaphor, this the real deal and, as I’ve said before, this love of yours with Vic, will inspire a generation of poets.
Mother Nature, I’m slowly coming to realise, is the gift that compensates for much pain in life. For the joy you found in the beautiful lupines, only days after Viv had died, throws my soul up high. Thank you for reminding me joy is there waiting to be found in this world, even as we wade through great sorrow.
Sending you much love and light across the oceans and oaks between us, your poet friend, Deborah.
June 4, 2024 at 12:30 pm
Elaine Mansfield
I am so fortunate in the realm of love. Marion Woodman said to me when I told her I fell in love at 21 with a graduate student because he was so sexy on his red racing motorcycle, “You were so fortunate, Elaine. He could have been the demon lover on that motorcycle.” (The motorcycle racing didn’t last long and he was not a demon lover.)
Where we met most deeply was in Nature. I agree it compensates for much of the pain and discomfort of life. After Vic spent hours in a chemo chair in his last years, we’d come home and take a slow stroll on our land. It’s no wonder I won’t leave. I’m rooted here. I hope you’re OK in this world steeped with sorrow, Deborah. I’m glad you walk through these times with Lin at your side.
Returning that love across oceans and over the tops of happy oaks. (May they produce acorns this year for the wild critters.) Thank you for allowing me to share your poem about “The Goddess and Green Man” on Vic’s death date. What a gift you gave–and it’s not a yearly “obligation” since it will soon be in your new book.
June 5, 2024 at 2:53 am
Deborah Gregory
It’s not a problem Elaine, I’m going to leave “The Goddess and Her Green Man” (dedicated to you and Vic) on my website. It’s already published in my second book, “The Shepherd’s Daughter” so won’t be included in my new book. I’m so pleased you love this poem so much! x
June 5, 2024 at 11:32 am
Elaine Mansfield
Thank you and thank you for reminding me it’s already published. I’ve read it so many times and forgot it was already in one of your books (on my shelf). Your poem is an honor, dear poet. Love manifested in humans and words.