Blessed be to all who are in the experience of loss.
The follow is an excerpt from The Smell of Rain on Dust by Martin Prechtel:
Like rennet, which converts what even a calf can’t digest in his own mother’s milk into a delicious life-giving cheese or like yeasts that are always in the air ready to transmute what is toxic and hard to digest in grains into very assimilable breads and beer, or change grape sugar into wine alcohol, vinegars, and more, the enzyme of grief is always there. Grief as a spiritual enzyme waits for our sorrows and then is secreted by our soul, not to soften our losses, but to utterly change them by metabolizing the impossible emptiness and confusion of our losses into a spiritual substance that can definitely be digested into the matrix of our ongoing existence. We are changed by this, and have to allow ourselves to be changed by this metabolization of our losses by grief and allow grief to instigate in us what it always has: the ultimate and only legitimate source of all human expression of beauty real art, and kindness through living. But we have to allow grief’s fermentation of our losses for this to take place. This is something that takes time and the right conditions of natural culture. If time is not afforded us, then we contract a hard empty place somewhere inside us that we must emotionally and physically negotiate every time we remember it or else try to detour our minds away from the memory of it for the rest of our lives – all of which is very draining and eventually develops into a kind of psychic ulcer.
Given half a chance, life when it is as it should be will naturally come out in favor of more life.