Most people don't get that we don't have a lot of control over our lives and loss brings that home. And for some, when they have one loss, they have many. I'm not talking about secondary losses; I'm talking brand new losses, new people dying.
I have known a woman who worked at hospice with me for 3 years and I've known her for 3 more. Very spiritual person and although she doesn't work for hospice, she still professionally has to deal with death often. She's lost her dad, her stepdad, her husband, her step brother, her dog in a house fire shortly after her husband's death, and she has had poor health off and on.
Makes me want to get out my old copy of "When bad things happen to good people"..... She's also "lost" two good friends, myself and another friend from work because our lives are so hectic. So where do you begin when you don't even have support to help you take a deep breath?
I've found myself grieving lately... the 6th year anniversary of my best friend, the person who helped me while my brother died. I sent her widower another letter, and still no answer. One more person gone. Friday, I said good bye to one of the few people at work that was caring, compassionate, went out of her way to be helpful, and brightened the whole place.
I've been struggling with a loss of some dreams but luckily getting my health back. And I know that this isn't profound. I don't have rockets and land mines going off in my neighborhood. But these all seem to pile up and bring up old grief issues. Do I need to go see a counselor; no I meditate more and go for my evening walk and write in my several blogs. Plus, there is always one more book to read or paper to write for school.
But, I can, in fact, lose myself in all of the daily things -- running to staples twice because I forgot something, being on the cell phone on my walk so I don't have time to think, or sitting in front of this bright screen and catch up on emails.
Or, I can write about it. I think when we feel overwhelmed, we have this illusion that if we do more to keep ourselves overwhelmed, the worst of the pain will be too numbed or too buried. It doesn't work that way. Those deep, existential issues rise up, in our attitudes, in our behavior, what goes on in our body, or in our thoughts.
My practice of meditation comes in handy during these times. Instead of being at the computer, I can sit in a still place, allow the feelings, thoughts, emotions, sensations that accompany or express my loss to come up and I can watch as the float away or cycle through my brain like a tornado. But, being mindful of what's going on, acknowledging it, holding it gently, and letting it fly or away or stick around, helps.
It reminds me that it is impermanent... as impermanent as my life is and the lives of those I grieve.
I have been using a lot of loving-kindness meditation with my clients recently; two in particular and have just started 2 more on it. Stephen Levine says that we are so merciless to ourselves. And if we are and grief shows no mercy, than we can be paralyzed.
Helping clients to acknowledge what's going on and having mercy for themselves while in the midst of it can help us from using silly phrases like, "I've been wallowing in it", "I've been on a pity party", or "I have been so weak". With loving-kindness, we start with ourselves and more out into the world, to include the losses, those people and situations that mean little to us, and those that get our dander up.
I have been teaching them that on a day like today, when it all feels like the pain or loss will always be there, I start with my breath and allowing myself to be merciful, to acknowledge what is, and to be patient with it. I don't do it well every day and there's day I'd rather not, but I do myself a service and I do my clients a bigger service when I can find a glimpse of mercy when it feels like it is all coming down on me at once.
I'm grateful to teachers like Lois Green, my friend who died 6 years ago today, for teaching me two things -- one yoga and the other is the phrase, take gentle care. I'm grateful to master teachers like Stephen Levine, Sharon Salzberg, Rollo May, and Paul Tillich who have taught mercy and loving kindness as well as presence in their own ways.