Runes and Grief Day 4: Perthro

Each day I am pulling a random Rune and writing on it as it relates to Grief. Today's rune is Perthro. It is sometimes seen as a dice cup, indicating chance or luck. Some see it as a well (as in Urdh's well). Some see it as a vagina open to give birth. Others see it as a cave of unknown content.

It's a fuzzy photo for a fuzzy rune.

Perthro is hard to pin down. I have found it to be one of the most changeable runes, depending on the question asked and its position in the layout. Grief also has that changeability; depending on who or what is around you, the situation of its origin, your ability to pin it down and express it, Grief can be a mysterious thing. It can also change minute to minute, day to day. There is no one way to grieve, nor even to define Grief.

Thinking of it as a well, as Urdh's or Mimir's well, it becomes a source for much learning. There ar so many lessons from the life or situation that has been lost, about how we react in Grief, about what we wish. Taking these lessons and applying them to the life we have left can be very free-ing. These answers, whether articulated or just felt, can inform the way we move forward. How we treat ourselves, others, and the earth might be reconsidered.

In looking at Perthro as Chance or Luck, I think of Grief as a thing over which we have no real control. Some of us are lucky enough to have control as to where we die, but for many of us, it is a surprise, or there are forces well beyond our control that dictate the time, place, and manner in which we end this life. The manner of death or other loss can play a huge role in how we process the situation. That extra dose of "unfairness" at someone's exit or a change happening suddenly, and especially violently, can prolong the grieving process, and add weight that is hard to push through. We do not have the comfort of knowing that there was a Good Death, or a natural and healthy ending to a situation.

As for the birth canal, Perthro, as death or any other transition, marks the beginning of a new phase. We have to learn to live differently, either in the absence of the person we've lost, or under circumstances that have changed through the loss of a job, or a move, or such. Re-learning what we thought we knew how to do is hard, and might be frustrating. But, as we hope a baby will do, we grow again in time.

One of the hardest parts about the death of a person is that we do not have proof of what happens after death. We have theories, we have beliefs, and we have some knowledge about how the body works when it is stopping living. But we do not have a guarantee, and we do not have a sure map. It's one thing to say, "Oh, ____ is in Heaven/Valhalla/Helheim/Etc)," but we are not privy to what their next steps really are. It is a mystery. We see the mouth of the cave, but we do not know how far it reaches, if it slopes, and if there are bears.

Sitting with mystery is hard. In time we have to accept that some mysteries remain mysteries.