RANDOM THOUGHTS… Grief, Wounds, and Healing

1673979719116.png

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood

For nothing now can come to any good — W. H. Auden
1673979722969.png



1673978044973.png
I was led back … well, more like dragged, silently kicking and screaming …. by one of our most-well-liked member’s current trials, into thoughts of grief and loss, and how to cope (any way you can) and deal (whatever works, and don't be looking all judgy, mmm-kay?), and what works (who knows, it’s going to be different for each of us), and what doesn’t (see “ … what works ….” ), especially when the circumstances of that grief are on-going, and they’re of the most deeply serious, heart-skewering kind ….





1673978200498.png
I’ve had a full roster of grief and loss and pain, and dealing with it and not dealing with it, and facing it and hiding from it, as so many of us here have (revealed touchingly in the comments on @Rufous Mckinney’s thread), and while I don’t set myself up as an expert (only God or maybe the Dalai Lama can claim that title, tho many others try), I’m also not a neophyte or a disinterested second or third party. Been there, done that, don't like it, still recovering. And so are all of you out there that I know well enough to make that assumption about. Grief is a life-long, on-going exercise in painful growth and spiritual development, and creating a new schematic that somehow allows you to survive the pain and floundering loss. And like all of life’s important lessons, it comes at a fearsome price.


1673978673608.png

It feels a lot like fear, with that twisting in the stomach, the remembered rebuff that you would give anything to take back, except that now it’s carved in stone, memorialized for all time, at least in your head and heart (which really is the only place that counts) … the words not spoken, or the words spoken in haste and anger that burn in your brain like a poker, or words of dismissal that sound harsher and far harder in memory than they did when you, thoughtlessly, almost absentmindedly, uttered them …



1673978786703.png
And grief often takes away the joy of remembering, because that irreplaceable 'other', the one that shared all those memories with you, is gone, and without them to resonate with you to those magical conjurings, the memories are only half-formed, half real, as tho part of the remembering has been slyly spirited away and and given back to you as something darker, more haunting, not quite right like a bad Twilight Zone, something no longer as amusing or warming or enlightening, something sometimes more like a sharp knife, carving up your heart. Again.


1673978927992.png
And as usual, Shakespeare had the right idea ….


Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak
knits up the o-er wrought heart
and bids it break ― William Shakespeare

Hard as it is, raw and painful as it is, as private and personal as it feels, grief has to be shared. First, it has to be wept and wailed and cried out, and then spoken, or written, or shouted from the rooftops, or danced, or painted, or knitted into a warm winter sweater or a cozy afghan, or crocheted into a lacy table cloth or shawl, or turned into a lavishly blooming garden. Whatever.

Without something to absorb it and transmute it, it takes you over. It changes you in ways that you don’t want to be changed. It will alter and twist your sense of self and safety and protection against the inevitable inclement emotional weather that will toss you around, like a boat in a hurricane, then dump you onto a rocky beach, or into a deep, dark, stagnant lagoon where the sun never shines and nothing grows …. except the snakes and alligators and some stuff that looks like oddly shaped mushrooms, but could be .... spiders ???


1673979102037.png
Shared, it becomes a bond, a fragile new memory, not one that will magically erase the pain and grief and burning regret, but that instead will turn it into a series of new memories, new sharings, new fragile contacts with people who previously were strangers, but who now tell you that they understand what you’re going thru, and are willing to honor it with you, and in that process, share their own griefs and sorrows and secret wounds and scars.

It's ultimately the rawest, harshest, most stripped-to-the-bone human emotion that we'll experience, and like all fragile emotions, locked away, it grows tentacles and fangs and rot. Shared, it grows wings with darkly beautiful iridescent feathers, capable of carrying you, not away from grief, but into a new understanding of it.


1673979251454.png
Maybe that’s why the raven and the crow, with their black, subtly iridescent purple, wine, and deep navy-blue feathers have become symbols for death and sorrow and loss. And in many spiritual disciplines, for its healing opposite: transformation. Learning to open ourselves to the searing darkness of that pain, and to others suffering thru the same endless night, and letting ourselves give in to it, share it, and perhaps simultaneously learn how to navigate it and gradually heal, at least to the extent that the depth and breadth and height of that loss can be healed. And it can.


Just not always all the way ....

1673982373288.png

Your memory feels like home to me.
So whenever my mind wanders,

It always finds its way back to you ― Ranata Suzuki
1673982418485.png

Comments

aybe that’s why the raven and the crow, with their black, subtly iridescent purple, wine, and deep navy-blue feathers have become symbols for death and sorrow and loss. And in many spiritual disciplines, for its healing opposite: transformation.
The odd but inescapable paradox: we grieve in proportion to our love. So for me, grieving is very much an honoring not only of those lost, but of the love that lived between us.

I know some people hang on to grief for just that reason--it keeps them connected. Queen Victoria? But maybe the trick is to turn that love back into life-force and something worthy of it to share with others.

We have a lot of grief here that is about losses not death as well. Losses of who we were or might be, losses of adventures and undertakings and dreams. Not so simple to parse, and yet, these are things we love as well.

Today is the anniversary of the deaths of my first partner (at 31) and my mother and the great poet Mary Oliver and the spiritual teacher about impermanence, death and healing--Stephen Levine. It is --for me, in any case--the most apt day to read your wonderful 'Random Thoughts' @YippeeKi YOW !!

Thank you.
 
Oh @Jyoti .... what a day !!!!

I have a few of those, too, crowded with ghosts I love, but that still cause me pain. I'm not as grown up as you or possibly not as spiritual, Or maybe both.

I have trouble letting go of things, doncha' know. There's parts of the year that I deeply, deeply dread.

Thank you for your kind words and thoughtful commentary, and for taking the time to post that on a difficult day :hug::hug: ....
 
Thank you @YippeeKi YOW !! for posting this wonderful thoughtful essay exploring this difficult topic that is, well, the most Universal aspect of our lives.

Nobody gets out of here entirely in one piece, do we? Maybe we just are very good at being Humpty Dumpty's and gluing ourself back together piece by piece.

I'd like to read my favorite Mary Oliver poem but I dare not. (that one about maybe we just won't pay off the mortgage)

the inevitable crash from yesterday's visit with my husband is doubling down.

It's our familiar. I swear....(politely)

:bang-head::hug:
 
Thank you @YippeeKi YOW !! for posting this wonderful thoughtful essay exploring this difficult topic that is, well, the most Universal aspect of our lives.
Thank you so much, Red !!!! As you've already guessed, I wrote and posted it specifically for you, and hoped that it would help ....


I truly do have some idea of how wrenching and difficult what you're going thru is under the best of circumstances, but when battling against this miserable little pissy terrorist of an illness, it becomes overwhelmingly more devastating and much, much harder ....

You're in my thoughts, such as they are today ....:heart:
 
I can't follow such eloquence with anything but a simple thank you.
Oh @Blue Jay, Im soooooooo glad you found this blog. You were one of the first friends I thought of when another friend here suggested that I write it.


I thought about tagging you in, but that felt too pushy, like flogging my own blog. It just didn't feel .... right.

I'm hoping that the handful of others who, like us, have gone thru the terrible crucible of losing someone they loved deeply will stumble across it as well ....

Your extremely kind words about it are gratefully received. I never know when I write about something this personal, this potentially painful, if anything I say has any real meaning or validity to anyone other than myself ....:love: :hug::hug:


Thank you for that, and for so much else :angel: .....
 
Tachycardia for you or for Michael ? :hug::hug::hug:
hello...

That was in reference to myself.

My HR went up to 120 yesterday afternoon and I'm on several BP pills. While I was speaking to my own doctor.

(but I did not take correctly my old pills so better luck today).

Basically: I have a type of anxiety that this Kicks Into Gear.

Our ME anxiety PLUS all this exacerbation and Guilt Trips.

And now I have an oddly HUGE obligation- I've got better manage my situation. For my daughter.
 
I posted some personal commentary about Lamentation.

somewhere around PR.

It's this really important part of being a human.

we come here to feel these things and feeling it makes us get so much more sick.

its the DARNDEST thing.
 
Your extremely kind words about it are gratefully received. I never know when I write about something this personal, this potentially painful, if anything I say has any real meaning or validity to anyone other than myself ....:love: :hug::hug:

Since the really painful stuff of losing my husband/friend and the ordeal of his funeral, I've had Covid which has melded into Long Covid and my brain is like mush. You put into words what my head couldn't realise.

I'm still working my way through the long grieving process but it's good to know I can come on PR when I feel the need to 'talk'.
 
Made a mess of highlighting (mushy brain proved).
Definitely not a problem, I speak fluent 'mush'. Just glad you're here in any shape or condition of mushy.

Like you, my general ME seems to have been compounded by the COVID, including the aggravation of unrefreshing sleep and days when any form of thought is just flucking beyond me.

Grief is the only thing worse than dragging ME round, and lucky us !!!! We get both. Oh, yay.

Please come here any time you want a safe and empathetic place to cry, moan, wheeze, rail against The Fates, or just share something you're feeling, good or bad :hug::hug::hug: ....
 

Blog entry information

Author
YippeeKi YOW !!
Views
212
Comments
13
Last update

More entries in User Blogs