Places We Go To When We Are Hurting
I have been writing this article for two weeks. Numerous edits and observation how my state changes brought me to today. I was sweeping the yard and my Sadness came forward. I could see her, touch her and oh, yes, feel her. She didn't want me to sweep the yard, she wanted full attention and space to break. I invited her to join doing the chore. It can be fun if done mindfully, I said. She was willing to participate for five minutes, and then took me for another ride. Rewinding two weeks ago... it was Tuesday, 27th September.
I had a curious encounter. A pigeon landed in the BMC yard, quietly blinking as if giving a Morse Code message. She was strangely peaceful, emitting the vibe of hurt and pain. It is a big responsibility when someone lands on your doorstep and is unwell. A pigeon, of all beings. The symbol of peace.
I tried to act through a swift consideration of human logic. Perhaps she might want to be out in the open and embark on the freedom flight? She didn't resist when I took her into my hands. Instead, she relaxed and closed her eyes. I tried to speak her language of silence and breathing. Is her flock concerned about her missing? What happened? I wanted to tell her that I wouldn't hurt her, that she could trust me.
After a bit of hesitation, I took her outside of the yard, still unsure what to do. Eventually, she flapped her wings a few times and landed a bit further on top of a kuaidi truck. This time she was out of reach.
Have you ever felt a sense of aching emptiness from not being able to help another being?
Earlier this year a friend who sometimes reads my astrology chart advised: "Everyone is hurting and experiencing death, so why would you remain protected?" Some years it is harder than others, ha. Three monts before the bird landed into the yard, Pearl disappeared without a trace. We grieved her by looking around and we are still waiting for her to come back. I have a notion that Pearl helped us to prepare for the rest.
A day after the pigeon graced me with her presence, Simba, BMC founding member and my teacher in life, crossed the bridge to the other world. Every grief is different, every event brings new insight on how life polishes our diamonds. This polish is special as Simba died of old age. After 16 years of precious togetherness, he left me with the ancient wisdom: to live long life go for a walk twice a day, stay curious, always participate in meditation circles and make sure you receive a treat.
Simba on the BMC rooftop on an autumn day, 2018
Grief, Brene Brown says, does not show up in a linear way and is entailed by three foundational elements: loss, longing and feeling lost.
Loss
I am surprised to learn that loss shows up not only at the time of death or during separation. Loss shows up in three ways: loss of normality, the loss of what could be and the loss of what we thought we knew or understood about something or someone. This collective sensation of loss is overwhelming. When individual loss comes along as well it is too hard to breathe at times. I disconnect from the collective sense of loss as a way of self-care. Think small, take it one hour at a time, walk slowly, reward myself with treats.
Longing
I read the definition of longing over and over again: "it’s an involuntary yearning for wholeness, for understanding, for meaning, for the opportunity to regain or even simply touch what we’ve lost." It resonates … I whisper into my heart: This aching means that I am longing. It helps to place my hand on the place where it aches. Just let it rest there. No massage, no rubbing. Just sitting with it. I keep naming it: Ah... this is how longing feels.
Feeling lost
David Kessler quote lands with a great sigh of relief: "Each person’s grief is as unique as their fingerprint. But what everyone has in common is that no matter how they grieve, they share a need for their grief to be witnessed. That doesn’t mean needing someone to try to lessen it or reframe it for them. The need is for someone to be fully present to the magnitude of their loss without trying to point out the silver lining."
On the day of Simba's passing, I connected with the MSC community. I briefly announced that the day has come for Simba to depart and without any prompt or asking: I was breathing, so were they, I was sighing, and so were they. They had their cameras on, each with a hand on heart, silently giving me space to release it all. There was so much love in their silence, what a powerful moment.
And, as far as places we go to when we hurt, I highly recommend reading Brene Brown's Atlas of the Heart, as it helps make sense of unpredictability of emotions. Anguish, hopelessness, despair, sadness and grief have visited us here at BMC in various forms. Life will never be the same but when there is a community to listen and offer compassionate silence, healing takes place instantaneously.
