As you tell the story.....

We know each other by the stories we tell.  In fact, we organize our lives through our stories, whether it is telling a friend about the trip you took to the market where you discovered some beautiful organic avocados, or sitting in a group telling the story of your grief. We may actually be creating our lives via these stories, so perhaps it would be wise to pay attention.

A wise woman said to me a long time ago:  “As you tell the story, it begins to happen. So why not make it a good one?”  I agree wholeheartedly and find myself concerned when I spend time with someone whose stories are filled with negativity, disgruntled complaints and woe.  Not to be too simplistic, but if the stories we tell are dark and dreary, couldn’t that affect how we view the world?   If we were paying attention to the story as it is shaped by our words, would we be able to tweak it a little? If like attracts like, do we attract the worst if that is where our attention is?

Grief is such an unsettling place. We must give voice to fears, anxiety, loneliness – all those seemingly negative and overwhelming emotions.  Yet, is it possible to find a balance between releasing these monsters and searching for something positive – a kernel of gold within the muck that can give us hope?  This kernel is the heart-seed of possibilities, a “promise,” as the poet Rabindrath Tagore said.  We used this poem as part of our wedding ceremony, allowing for possibilities to show up in unexpected ways and to flower.  Did I think that widowhood would be one of these possibilities?  No.  But I continue to tell a good story and to attempt, with great effort, to transform cataclysm into a meaningful life.

What story are you telling today?  How can you use your story to transform your life?

                                             The faith waiting in the heart of the seed

                                             Promises a miracle of life

                                             Which it cannot prove at once.

                                                                            ~RabindranathTagore, Fireflies

"Hope is as reasonable as despair"**

On Wednesday, my colleague spontaneously gave homework to our bereavement group. She asked each member to grab a pen upon waking in the morning and write down things they are grateful. In fact, she asked that we all write 10 grateful things every morning for a week.  My first reaction was “cool, what a great idea.” Then I thought, TEN? That’s a lot!!  

In this new series of group sessions, we’ve decided to turn to the subject of resilience a lot sooner. We find that if we wait until the last two sessions, our group members seem more resistant to closing the group, begging for more.  While we encourage telling their stories many times and completely endorse crying and expressions of despair as a necessary part of grieving, we also see our role as guiding our clients towards living again.  Grief processing is easier when it includes a positive view along with the sadness.  For example, flashbacks of the final moments and the shock of the death itself can be alleviated through remembering the good times, all the years of love.  Just as one can’t stay stuck in abject sorrow, keening and wailing without end, it is imperative to let it go for a while. Put the grief on the shelf for an hour or so and take a walk in the woods.  Don’t suppress your feelings but balance them with some small activity of daily living. Breathe.  Relax.  Laugh.  Be grateful.

When I woke up this morning it was with a rather ungrateful thought. I sat with it for a while, noticed it, then took out a journal.  I chose one from several years ago, with many blank pages.  The first pages were scribbled with a few random daily descriptions and one of my favorite poems by ee cummings: i thank you god for most this amazing day.  I smiled, picked up a green pen (for gratitude) and completed my 10 Grateful Statements.

What are you grateful for?  It doesn’t have to be a huge thing; my first statement was that I am grateful for morning birdsong, even in Manhattan.  I am grateful for each of my children of course, and I am grateful for my new career and the people I work with.  I am grateful for every insight I am privileged to witness from a person who is mourning and rediscovering the meaning of their life. 

Try it - tomorrow when you wake up, write down some Grateful Statements.  It doesn’t matter how many…

***from Healing after Loss, Daily Meditations by Martha Whitemore Hickman.

Being IS Doing

Today marks my one year anniversary as a bereavement counselor for Hospice.  It has been a heart-expanding year; a year of daily karuna practice. Every day, I have been called to open hearted listening, just Being with someone, compassionately. 

Inside the practice of karuna and active presence, the practice of managing chaos resides.  How much of life is chaos and how much of life is predictable?  A psychologist posed this question to me a few weeks ago and I've been asking it to others. Most people rate chaos quite high; some people go for a 60/40 split with predictability having an edge. That was my position too, but it was surprising when this doctor stated that only 5% was actually chaotic.  Of that 5%, he asserted, 4% was merely irritating or annoying.  The only real out of control chaos in life is about 1%.

Of course, in hospice work, we are helping people who are in that 1%. They are panicked, watching their loved one deteriorate, providing medical care they never imagined they would have to do. While many people prefer to die at home, the toll on their families is enormous. Wives, husbands, children, grandchildren and even family friends step up and gamely administer medications, change and clean the frail bodies, tempt them with tasty treats that can no longer be swallowed. And they are grieving in anticipation, not knowing when it will "end," and dimly recognizing that the end of life will not end the grief.

Daily, people ask me, "what can I do?" I smile gently and lean forward.  Just BE, I answer. Sit with him and tell him you love him, or don't even say it out loud.  Hold her hand and sing quietly. Open your heart and just BE with your loved one, as calmly as you can, pulsing with love, light and gratitude.

Afterwards, come and sit with me.  I also will hold your hand and walk with you for a while.  And if you are wondering what to do with all this pain, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. They won't fix it or make the sadness go away.  But they can help you manage it, learn from it, grow with it. And one of the best lessons I've learned this year is that sometimes, you don't really have to do anything.

Just Be with it.

Somewhere packed away, I have my Certificate of Being, bestowed by a humorous professor from the Institute of Transpersonal Psychology.  I think I will dig it out and put it on my desk.

Life After Death

Working in an interfaith, spiritually centered Hospice affiliated with a Catholic Hospital, I hear many people talk about what they expect after death. They say with certainty that they know they will see their loved ones again, or they joke that the husband, mother or father is up there (pointing to the ceiling) having an argument with Aunt Elsie, or driving everyone a little crazy.  It's a comforting thought for believers.

I've also listened to grievers who are troubled by their beliefs. Some worry about their loved ones, for whom they put so much time and desperate effort in trying to keep comfortable.  One man said he spent most of his time praying for his wife, because he feared that she needed him.  This week, a woman said, weeping, that she had the unnerving feeling that her husband wanted her "up there" with him. It felt like a pull in his direction and was very disturbing. She was not interested in harming herself in order to get there but she had this very clear feeling and was troubled by it.  This was in Group and several other members offered comfort and suggestions for her. I asked her if she could turn it around and ask him to be present with her here, and she again said that she thought he wanted her to come to him. 

In my spontaneous Sagittarian way, I blurted out without thinking, "well, it's not very nice of him, is it!"  The woman, along with everyone else in the room burst out laughing.  I feared I had been too provocative, but really, it seemed to me that she is alive and should be free to live fully, after his death.  If there is some presence there calling her, where is he expecting her to go? It seems almost rude of him (if it IS him and not a turned around thought about giving up) after all those years of care she gave him.  It would be nicer for her to find ways to re-engage in her life now, despite the sorrow and loneliness.

I have been thinking a lot about Life after Death myself lately but not in the same way.  To me, life after death is what you do with your life after your loved one died.  Life is not a passive place in which to wait, although grief often feels like an empty room in which everything is askew.  It is up to us  to embrace life, reshape it, re-invest in activity, new endeavors, new friendships and maybe even new relationships.  Immediately after my husband died, I heard a voice in my head saying, "your life has radically changed. Now WHAT?"  This has been the motivating thought even when I had no answers about how to live and walked around for years in a life that felt like an alien landscape. 

It is not easy to rekindle a desire for living when all you can manage is the most minimal of activities.  But over time, life begins to be more comfortable, even interesting.  There is life after death, and it can be whatever you want it to be. It is yours to shape.  Make it beautiful, full and fun.