The 4,000-pound stone sculpture created by artistCeleste Robergeis a hollowed-out person filled with heavy stones.
The figure is crouched over, as if in anguish.
As if the weight theyre carrying brought them to their knees.
Thats whatgriefdid to me the day I signed my 40-year-old husbands hospice papers.
I was now a single mother and young widow.
Eventually, I got up and carried on.
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But my hips ached, a physical manifestation of my sorrow, and I didnt stand quite as tall.
The weight of grief was too heavy.
It threatened to drag me back down.
This tightness and unevenness wasnt a surprise.
Still, I hadnt even noticed the places where I was out of whack.
Grief had disconnected me from my body.
The first press out on the reformer for footwork brought awarenessback to my physicality.
The second helped me breathe into the places that had been trampled by the physical effects of grief.
In Pilates, precision is important, and focus is crucial.
Paying close attention to the movements consumed my mental bandwidth.
That was a gift.
Like the first time, it disappeared as my thoughts turned to my body.
Since my husband died, Id cringed whenever I was described as strong.
The word made me feel othered.
Except in the Pilates studio.
It was achievable with effort.
It was energizing to hear the word strong and believe it.
Thanks to the focus Pilates has on the small posture muscles, I probably was.
But in that moment, I also realized I was no longer dragging something heavy beside me.
The grief wasnt gonegrief never disappearsbut Pilates had helped make space in my body for grief.
Recently, the Rising Cairn sculpture came across my social media feed.
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