Words of Comfort: From a Dear Friend

At the end of July I was recalling an extremely vivid dream I had had the previous night with my friend Kari.  It was springtime and I was at my dad's place.  He told me that my mom had been "missing" since the winter and was presumed dead.  I then walked into an adjacent room -- I believe it was the study -- and saw my mom's lifeless body lying in bed.  (Funny that my dad didn't bother to check the next room!)  I approached my mom's body, and then, all of sudden, she became reanimated -- she opened her eyes and started talking.  I remember hugging her and remembering how her face felt and smelled.  Then I woke up, and spent a good portion of that day in tears-- something I hadn't done in a while.  After I recalled this to Kari, she wrote the following words to me:

"Maybe it would help you to realize that your mom is still with you, but in a different form.  If we are energy, if we are spirit and soul, then she's just as much with you now as she was two years ago. It's just that we want what we know and it's hard to see and feel something new.  I know it's not as satisfying.  Not right now anyway.  I think that's because we don't understand the purpose of earth.  I think if we did, we wouldn't see that a person died.  I think we'd see that they were still on their journey, just like us.  And that your souls aren't disconnected.  It's just a new level of enlightenment."

Kari's words have been a source of comfort to me in recent days, and I hope they are a comfort to you as well, dear reader, during your time of grief.

Practices That Have Helped: Replacing Sorrow With Humor

A little over a month ago -- June 30, to be precise -- I was talking with my friend Kari via text messaging.  The conversation went like this:

Kari: "Hey, I just had a really crazy thing happen to me.  And I'm pretty sure you're supposed to do this little exercise when you're ready.  So if you are open to it I'll tell you about it."

Me: "Sure!  I can try it later this evening when my dad and I are back home.  Tell me about it!"

Kari: "Is there anywhere in the house or somewhere there in the area that makes you feel sad?"

Me: "Sometimes it's the guest bedroom on the first floor.  Our cat Milton and I would spend a lot of time together there."

....

Kari: "Ok, what are your favorite comedies to watch?  Movies or TV.  What's hilarious to you?"

I then gave Kari a list of my favorite funny TV shows and movies.

Kari: "Ok.  You need to go into the room and watch something that will make you laugh.  Be in that room and laugh.  Do it a couple different times.  And you'll start to feel happiness in that room...I'll look forward to hearing your experiences.  And do me a favor.  After you watch your movie or show, take a minute to stop and have a quiet moment to feel the vibe in the room.  Stop and feel and listen and take it all in."

 

In the weeks since, I've done exactly as Kari instructed me to do. I took my laptop into the room where Milton and I used to spend time together, and watched some funny YouTube videos.  And you know what?  I think there might be something to this technique.  The guest bedroom doesn't feel as sorrowful as it once did -- things feel a little lighter in there.  I saw a saying on the webpage of a former classmate of mine: "Change the narrative.  Laugh in the places you've cried."  Maybe you should give it a try, dear reader, and let me know if it works for you.

Dancing Your Grief Away? Why Not?

I had mentioned in one of my previous posts on how staying in motion -- such as exercising -- can help deal with the worst aspects of grief.  Well, it looks like the whole concept has been taken to a new level.  Over at Good News Network, there's a new story: "Dance Away Your Tears With This 'Grief Disco Kiosk'."  The story profiles British artist Anna Nicholson, who is collaborating with several different organizations, to convert old European-style K67 kiosks into places where people can express their grief through the medium of dance.  According to the article, "there’ll be meditation and yoga workshops, dance classes, and “grief raves” where clubbers can request tracks that remind them of absent or lost loved ones."  Nicholson is no stranger to grief, after losing her mother, sister, and sister's partner in a helicopter crash, and her father a few years later to cancer.  A few years earlier, Nicholson was involved in another creative venture, using an ice cream truck to entice people to show up for some sweet treats as well as providing a venue for discussing their issues with grief and loss.  It all goes to show that even amidst our grief, there is still a lot of room for being creative and reaching out to others!

Living a "Wabi-Sabi Life"

A few years ago, I read an article by another blogger about her decision to deliberately live a "Wabi-Sabi" life.  I couldn't find the original article, but this one from Omar Itani nicely sums up the concept.  Excerpt:

"Wabi-sabi is an elegant philosophy that denotes a more connected way of living—a lifestyle, where we are deeply connected to nature, and thus, better connected to our truest inner-selves.

Wabi-sabi is a concept that motions us to constantly search for the beauty in imperfection and accept the more natural cycle of life. It reminds us that all things including us and life itself, are impermanent, incomplete, and imperfect. Perfection, then, is impossible and impermanence is the only way.

Taken individually, wabi and sabi are two separate concepts:

• Wabi is about recognizing beauty in humble simplicity. It invites us to open our heart and detach from the vanity of materialism so we can experience spiritual richness instead.

• Sabi is concerned with the passage of time, the way all things grow, age, and decay, and how it manifests itself beautifully in objects. It suggests that beauty is hidden beneath the surface of what we actually see, even in what we initially perceive as broken.

Together, these two concepts create an overarching philosophy for approaching life: Accept what is, stay in the present moment, and appreciate the simple, transient stages of life."

Lots of great spiritual advice in this article, including recognizing the beauty in all things, accepting our circumstances, striving for excellence instead of perfection, and slowing down our pace of living.  As for myself, I've discovered that it's all too easy that when you've lost someone, you wind up holding on even more intensely to the people, places, and things that remain in your life, even when it causes even more pain. I especially liked this statement, which is something I've struggled with over these last couple of years:

"Zen is about how you face the challenges and difficulties life throws at you. It’s about how you deal with the inevitable realities of failure, grief, worry, and loneliness. Zen is in your response. Will you accept the imperfect flow of life? Or will you fight it? Will you find peace in what is right here, right now? Or will you deny it and thus continue your struggle with it?

The idea is quite simple: As you continue to resist, so will you continue to compound your suffering."