Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Grief Journey

I sat this morning in quiet worship-- somewhere between centering prayer and waiting worship, letting go of the thoughts and images that scurried through my conscious mind. As things settle down, my mind had fewer thoughts and more images. Suddenly, a box (yes a box: I am sure that means something to Jungian analysts, but it may just mean that I like boxes and seem to collect them) popped open like a bubble and what emerge was a word in illuminated letters: grieve.

Grieve? Grieve.

Grief is often in my thoughts, partly related to my work in the world with patients and families facing serious illness. And partly because of my own journey with grief as my companion for much of my adult life. We all live with loss, major and minor, small and large, every day. Some losses drift like the melancholy fall of a leaf in autumn; others hit like a tidal wave, where all boundaries and bearings are swept away and even breathing is not possible without extreme effort. Grief is a companion we learn to live with, and maybe even welcome at times, but who never really leaves us completely. she may stay secluded and quiet for a long time in an upstairs room, then suddenly the rhythm of daily life is again upset by her mercurial moods. 

It is like riding a roller coaster  (and I love roller coasters, by the way.) Unpredictable at times, exhilarating and frightening at others, and sometimes cathartic. Every time I think I have learned the lesson of letting go of trying to control grief, the sudden storm arises from an unexpected source.

Grief is a dedicated teacher. I am still learning. We are traveling together through the seasons of my journey. So, Rainer Maria Rilke's poem speaks to me today:




I live my life in widening circles
that reach out across the world.
I may not complete this last one
but I give myself to it.

I circle around God, around the primordial tower.
I've been circling for thousands of years
and I still don't know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song?

~ Ranier Maria Rilke ~


Blessings on your journey today.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Sunrise Surprise



Photo = "Sunrise Surprise" by Buffy Curtis

I have been in a dry spell. Perhaps the change of seasons with its darkness affecting the season of my soul is part of it. More is my own lack of discipline, of spiritual laziness, my seeming inability to *force* myself to take care of my spirit in the ways I know will help: making time for the holy spirit to heal me. 

and now I sit, with cold November sun shining outside the window, knowing that in Singapore, where my son is attending a conference, it is warm and sunny and he is probably glad he is in air conditioning. Knowing that in Buenos Aires, where my brother is vacationing, it is the beginning of summer and they are welcoming the longer days with wine and dance.

Seasons of the soul will come and go, as do the seasons of the year; yet we persevere, we survive, we, "keep on keeping on." Perhaps it is will to survive. Perhaps it is deep knowledge-- the knowing before knowing-- that the season will not last forever, and that the sun and spring will come again.

I sometimes engage in the practice of sitting with-- just being with-- my pain and my sorrow. Not asking for it, nor feeding it, just being. And eventually, sorrow says, "OK, we have spent enough time together for now. Have a good day. I will be back." and meanwhile, I see the glory and miracle of another sunrise, or sunset, or of the cat jumping in my lap full of black purring warmth. 

and so I say (with e. e. cummings), "thank you god for most this amazing day!