Meaning and Purpose

When I first began studying grief, I learned about a model called “meaning-making.”  At first this angered me because I did not think that I could come up with a meaning for Alby's death. It made no sense that he left us in the middle of our lives together.  I also felt that my own life had lost its meaning, even though the work I was engaged in continued and even ramped up since I was now trying to complete it alone.  I puzzled over the idea of meaning for a long time.

Dr. Robert Neimeyer, an influential leader in grief counseling and therapy, talks about meaning making as a way to rebuild your life after loss.  In the reconstruction model of grief counseling, the story becomes a pathway to transformation. By telling the story of the loss and of the relationship, you can find points of connection. Through the narrative, you might discover new activities, new passions. As I worked through my own story of loss, I slowly understood that by living a meaningful life, I would discover its new purpose.  By finding connections from our relationship, I continue to bring him forward into my life now.  In other words, the meaning in my life moves through our shared story and finds purpose in the stories I am creating and the work I do in my life now. In other words, there was no meaning in his death but I can make meaning in my own life, afterwards.

Many of my clients talk about a loss of purpose.  One young woman feels that it is important to focus on her purpose now that her shared plans with her boyfriend will not come about. Even as she cries, she seeks meaning in a penny on the ground, a hawk in the sky. She visits places they intended to go together and looks towards finding a more satisfying job to enhance her career, as if she is being invisibly encouraged by him. An older woman struggles to find meaning in other parts of her life besides her work which, although it gives her a true sense of purpose, does not supply enough meaning to fill the hole left by her husband. She seeks connection with her adult children, in remembrance of their loved one. A mother, mourning the sudden death of her daughter, searches for purpose now that she no longer has this child to guide. It will take her a while to rekindle any sense of meaning after this death. A young man, struggling with issues of growing up, leaving childhood friends and bad habits behind, longs to create a meaningful career to shape himself as an adult.

It's a common theme although we each have our own unique story to tell. Listen to these stories that you tell yourself and others. Notice where the connections are. Notice your own themes and see if they will lead you to a new sense of purpose.

 

How have you rediscovered meaning and purpose after death or a difficult transition? Leave me a message - I'd love to read your response.

Character Education: Political Correctness vs Civility

Years ago, when I was PTA Rabble Rouser in Chief, a parent came to a meeting with an elaborate presentation about something called “character education.” She said that children needed to be taught manners and how to be nice to each other, in school. She backed up her argument with charts and visual aids.  I was a bit taken aback because I thought that manners, tolerance and how to be kind to other people was MY job, at home, as a parent. After pointing out that recommendations for changes to the educational system needed to be implemented by the school board, not the PTA, I went home very puzzled.  A year later, character education became a state mandate.  How was it possible that we needed to mandate the teaching of common decency and civility?

I must be blind or completely out of the loop. It seems that not only did we need character education, a major sector of this country needs a refresher course. Suddenly, people seem to think they can say whatever they want, no matter how mean, intrusive or bigoted. At check-out lines across the country, nutty people feel emboldened to comment nastily on other people, without knowing anything about their challenges, their lives or who they are. A mother struggling with two special needs kids, another young boy and a toddler gets threatened with CPS by the woman in front of her. Wouldn’t it have been kinder to say, “May I help you?” The nephew of a friend, calmly waiting his turn on line in a store suddenly gets called a vile racial epithet for no reason at all, other than some bug-eyed man’s idea of “free speech.” Using the excuse that we no longer have to be “politically correct,” the crazies have come out of the closet.

Calling people names is not “telling it like it is.” Being rude, hostile, loud and threatening does not show strength of character – quite the opposite. What happened to offering assistance? To common courtesy? Tolerance?  Basic human dignity and kindness? Character is defined as the mental and MORAL qualities of an individual. Can we live up to our highest standards instead of the lowest?

Free speech does not mean you can say whatever hateful or hurtful thing that pops into your head. Good character dictates thinking before speaking, in case your words might wound.  Free speech is not verbal vomiting. In a civil society, we need to be just that – civil. Good character means good conduct in the best sense, not because it is politically correct but because it is good. We do not know what another person is going through and it behooves us to take a breath and at least try to be calm and kind. And if we are unable to do that, perhaps we should not speak at all.

The Art of Dying 5

The New York Open Center’s conference, provocatively titled, was an amazing experience. Rather than being about the process of dying, this conference offered stimulating investigation into the nature of reality and consciousness, asking the question, “Does consciousness continue after death?” Different viewpoints were explored – the Tibetan Buddhist view was represented by Robert Thurman and Kunchok Gyaltsen, a Tibetan herbal doctor. Thomas Moore talked about care of the soul, which he believes continues eternally.  Rabbi Simcha Raphael gave a lively talk about the transpersonal, Jewish/Kabbalistic view which had similarities to Tibetan teachings of the Bardo. Henry Fersko-Weiss gave a beautiful presentation on bringing the sacred back to the deathbed as he talked about End of Life Doula training.

While I have never been personally concerned with life after death, most of my clients are. There are so many different concepts; while humans have puzzled over this question for millennia no one can say with certainty that they have the answer. It is indeed hard to conceive that someone so vibrantly present can be completely absent, totally NOT after they die.  And since no one has ever truly come back to tell us, many people rely on faith and some, like me, don’t worry about it too much.

Dr. Eben Alexander had a lot to say about his near death experience and sounds very certain about what he feels is true.  It was fascinating to spend the whole weekend listening and discussing different beliefs and possibilities.  We were also treated to a scientific study on the single dose use of hallucinogens to assist cancer patients with existential dread and anxiety.  Dr. Stephen Ross from NYU Medical Center is about to launch a third study into this, which, along with a very intensive therapy model, seems to be quite effective.

Having recently left my job at the Hospice, this conference could not have come at a better time.  I reconnected with some old associates including my former mentor from my Masters program.  One of my recent colleagues joined me for a day.  New friends appeared and connected and I advocated strongly for the inclusion of bereavement work in any conversation about dying. 

To decompress, two new friends joined me for a romp in Central Park where we joyfully rode the Carousel and sang in Strawberry Field.

Common Ground

      “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there..”

                                                                                                            ~ Rumi*

Why are we always so hard on ourselves? In the 4 years I have been practicing grief counseling, 3 in a hospice setting, I hear a repeated refrain: “I thought I was doing so much better but I am not.”  The self-judgment contained in this statement interferes with the process. And that is what grief is: a process, which implies that it is fluid, changeable and on-going.  If grief takes us on a journey through the unknown terrain of our emotional fields, why are we so unwilling to simply notice where we are?  Instead, we judge it, as if what we feel is somehow incorrect.  “I am supposed to…”  “I should be…” and the worst one:  “They say I should….”

This seems to be a common ground in grief – nearly everyone questions whether they are grieving in the right way.  In Hospice, clinicians use the phrase “grieving appropriately.”  What does that mean? What is appropriate expression for you may be alien to me. In some cultures it is appropriate to wail and keen; in others, to present a calm façade. But there seems to always be expectations that somehow, the way you are feeling it might not be quite right. The person who is quiet in their grief is commended as “strong” as if allowing emotion to be felt and expressed is somehow wrong. And the wailing person is sometimes seen as needing medical intervention!

It is natural to question how we are doing but is it necessary to be convinced that someone else has a better handle on coping then we do? Yesterday, while sharing a bit of my own grief experience I caught myself saying, “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” Then I said, “well, actually this IS the way it happened and I have had to find ways to cope, to adjust, even to LIVE within that happening.” There did not seem to be any other choice.

Out beyond self-judgment is the field of exploration. As we navigate our grief without a map and even without a destination, we might discover a new sense of self. How did those early adventurers find their way as they traveled to unknown lands?  They explored, they observed, they took measurements and guidance from the stars.  We grievers can do the same: we can explore our relationships, we can discover how loving has changed us. We can take the love we shared along with us as the guiding star, even though our loved one is physically gone. And we can leave self-criticism back on the distant shore.

       “Sometimes when I am down, I am my own worst enemy. Let me be my friend.”

                                                                                     ~ Martha Whitemore Hickman**

*Mevlana Jelaludin Rumi, 13^th c. poet, as translated by Coleman Banks

**January 5 entry, Healing After Loss by Martha Whitemore Hickman, Harper Collins