THE SPIRITUALITY OF GRIEF

I have a theory that I’m working into a book that all of life is a pilgrimage. Every aspect of life is part of a sacred journey. If we do it right, all of life’s experiences serve to soften us. Grief is an essential part of this pilgrimage, because it is a common denominator. No one is ever spared the experience of grief, and grief is not limited to death, but rather encompasses all kinds of other losses. Losses of our identity, how our bodies once looked, jobs, relationships, etc.

Things to know about grief: it feels like it robs you of your spark. It whispers, “Who you thought you were is gone and everything will be gray forever”. And it feels true. When I had a 4-month period of three major losses, I felt like half of my body was missing, but no one could see it from the outside.

Grief has its own biology.

It can feel like parts of your being have been surgically removed, and since we’re not starfish or lizards, they don’t just grow back. The brain is in a trauma state where it doesn’t all function properly. Things that were once easy suddenly become impossible. Where you could once greet the day with a hello, you now greet the day with hell no. You spend endless time trying to accomplish something small that used to be easy.

Before those three losses, I was a highly motivated person who used self-hate to get the job done. I would criticize myself endlessly in hopes that it would make me better. I had incredible diligence. And then grief hit and I couldn’t muster the energy I once had to do any of it.

So I didn’t. Instead, I started speaking kindly to myself…incessantly. For example: “Wow, good job, you woke up! You’re a rock star, you brushed your hair! Geez, you ate food today! You actually showed up for work [didn’t get much done], but hey! I love you so much! I love your sad eyes! I love your tired body! I love your dull spirit! I LOVE ALL OF YOU!!!!”

Grief demands that we become someone new.

That’s why it’s so damn important not to get stuck in grief. I won’t ever be the same person I was before those losses. Instead, I have found even more love and compassion for the world. I laugh with new openness and authenticity. I delight in silly jokes like my life depends on it, because it kinda does. The purpose of all these heartbreaks is to allow our hearts to literally break open, so that love can pour out – both for ourselves and others.

But first the muck. For those currently grieving, I’m not writing this in order to cheer you up or give hope. I’m writing this to normalize the experience. Stop expecting so much of yourself. The summer after those loses while spending a week in Maui for my 35th birthday, I grieved harder than I had in grief counseling. But I didn’t shy away from it. I didn’t tell myself, “I’m on vacation in Maui for my birthday, it’s beautiful and smells like fucking magic, and looks like magic. What’s wrong with me? I should be enjoying this!” Nope. I just journaled, and cried, and hid in bed at times, then went to meetings on the beach and shared about how fucked up I was. Fucked up in paradise…could be a Country song.

Especially in Western cultures, we don’t do grief very well. We have a lot of other unresolved, unfelt, unhealed losses we’re carrying. I’ve heard this talked about like an invisible backpack. What happens is that when we add a new loss, is that the backpack is opened and all the other shit pours out and compounds our pain.

The thing that we can do with grief is share it.

Don’t carry it alone. Get help. It won’t make the process go by any quicker, but we need support to transform into something softly beautiful. Look around (safely) when you’re stuck in traffic or milling around the supermarket. See all those people? They’ve all experienced loss. They might be grieving right now. No one makes t-shirts that say, “be nice to me, my dad who never really loved me just died, and now he’ll never be able to love me”, or “be nice to me, my mom who was my best friend just died”, or “be nice to me, my beloved cat just died, and she was the only one who was there consistently during my cancer treatment”.

So let’s know that we all have an invisible grief backpack and be kinder. Kindness is the most important part of the spiritual journey anyway.

Grief (part 2)

Grief is a monsoon
That rips through your life
Blowing heavy and wet
Carving channels
With awesome power
Leaving rivers of tears
In its wake

Grief is a radical shift of energy
An explosion
When two opposing forces,
Life and death
Possession and loss
Fixed and impermanent,
Collide

Grief takes a
Dry
Barren
Landscape
And washes it clean
And waters
Your earth
So that once the
Acute sense of loss
Has passed
New things can grow

Grief takes you from
A wake
To
Awake

Grief (part 1)

Grief is like being a broken record
With the volume turned down
People can see you spinning
But nobody seems to get
That you're stuck

No one can fill in the chunk
That went missing
And people listen without hearing
And people watch without seeing
The desperate wailing behind vacant eyes

Grief is lonely
And confusing
And empty
And consuming

Grief sits heavy
And then lifts
But lands again In a new space
Affecting a new thing

Grief takes things
Without asking
And leaves trash behind
Like a fucking asshole.