This is a talk about my experience with grief,
The beliefs and perspectives that have allowed me to transform my personal relationship with it,
And how I have learned to allow grief to weave its loving fingers through my everyday life,
Keeping my relationships with those I've lost very much alive.
After the talk,
I'll walk you through some gentle grounding and introspection to hopefully help you tap into your calm,
Open and loving heart,
To honor your grief and to find your own unique ways of sustaining and honoring your connection with those who are never really lost.
As is always true,
This is simply an invitation to take what resonates and leave what doesn't,
And adapt or modify anything in whatever ways feel nourishing to you.
There are infinite ways to love.
So a little background on me.
I was born into a chaotic situation to a young and frazzled mother,
And a father whose pension for alcohol shortened his already short fuse.
My early years were seasoned with upheaval and uncertainty.
My mother and I were both blessed with family members who stepped in to support us,
The most significant of whom,
For me,
Was my maternal grandmother.
Amidst the chaos,
She was my one reliable constant,
A source of unconditional love,
Safety and consistency.
When I was 11,
After a year that was especially chaotic and filled with multiple levels of loss for me,
My grandmother died.
She was only 58.
It was a tragic loss for the whole family,
And for her,
A life cut far too short,
And this loss shaped the trajectory of the rest of my life.
I spent years unconsciously looking for her in other people,
Always drawn to the friendship and guidance of older women.
I never didn't feel sad.
Sometimes I knew it was grief's hold,
But more often than not,
I didn't know why I was sad.
I often berated myself for not feeling able to just be happy,
And sometimes when I found myself having a sporadic moment of happiness,
I would scold myself for being disloyal.
I thought that not being sad was somehow forgetting or disregarding her,
And so I carried my grief for her like a heavy backpack for decades.
Skipping ahead a little,
Okay a lot,
To the first time I participated in a journey using plant medicine.
As the medicine began to work its way through me,
I panicked.
The sensations were unfamiliar and felt chaotic,
Much like the feelings of unsafety in my early childhood.
I was scared.
I curled myself into a ball and I tried to rock myself into calm.
And as I rocked and panicked,
And was resigning myself to weather out the ride,
I was suddenly transported back in time to my grandmother's living room,
And I felt her arms wrap around me.
And as I settled into the safety of her presence,
I was simultaneously so blissfully soothed and stricken with a secondary fear response.
The fear of losing her again.
I began pleading with her,
Don't leave me,
Don't leave me,
Don't leave me,
Over and over.
And over and over she said to me,
I never left you.
I never left you.
This went on for quite a while.
I'm not always a quick study,
But she stayed with me,
Holding me,
Reassuring me until it finally sunk in.
She wasn't going to leave me.
Of course she wasn't going to leave me.
She had never left me.
Over the 30 plus years between her death and that moment,
There were many times when I thought I felt her energy,
Thought I sensed her love,
Her presence,
Her guidance.
I wanted to believe those moments were her.
And on some levels I did believe.
But there was always something that kept me just shy of fully buying in.
It was fear.
Fear of losing her again.
I thought that if I allowed myself to believe she was here,
Then I would have to feel the pain of losing her all over again.
And that was simply unbearable.
And so this subconscious desire to shield myself from pain actually kept me trapped in it.
There is incredible value in uncovering the mind's motivation to protect the heart.
Once I realized what was happening,
I was able to remind myself of my own strength and ability to be with my heartache.
And then I was able to open myself to see the connections that had never really been lost.
For what it's worth,
I feel like it's important to clarify here.
The way I tell this story sounds as if I experienced a magical,
Spontaneous resolution to my grief.
And in some ways that is true.
It was an epiphany that I return to often when I am deep within my grief.
But this process of healing is rarely a one-and-done deal.
Return is the operative word.
We return,
Time and time again,
To our lessons.
Forgetting our capacity to lovingly hold our emotions,
And re-remembering,
Re-reminding ourselves of the heart's resilience.
In this process of healing,
It's just as important,
Maybe even more important,
To give ourselves grace for forgetting the lessons as it is to learn the lessons themselves.
And additionally,
I feel like I need to say that there is no resolution to grief.
Grief is born of love.
And as long as there is love,
There will be grief.
What changes isn't the emotion itself,
But rather how we respond to it.
How we welcome it.
How we honor its role in our life instead of shooing it away.
Now,
It may seem that I am abruptly changing subjects,
But this next part is connected.
Bear with me.
Everything is energy.
Matter is neither created nor destroyed.
It simply changes form.
When we burn a log,
The atoms don't cease to exist.
They transform.
Some become ash,
Some become heat and light and vapor,
All nourishing what remains in some unique way.
This is true for everything in existence.
Even our memories are energy.
The firing of neurons in our brains are trails of neural connections lighting up as we walk down memory lane.
In order for memories of a loved one to exist,
That person had to exist and had to exist in their specific form because memories are shaped by individual perspective.
The way we remember our loved ones can only exist because of our unique relationship with them.
So in essence,
Memories themselves are echoes of that person's energy,
Their light,
Their heat,
Their nourishing ashes,
Only possible because they lived and they loved and they connected with us.
If you think about it,
This is true not only for our memories but also for all the little things that remind us of the people we've lost.
Something can only remind you of a person because of the way you existed in relationship with that person.
So even the gentle reminder of a past loved one is also a ripple of their unique energy.
Over the years,
I have been privileged to love and to be loved by many people.
And I have lost more than just my grandmother.
For me,
Whenever a memory or a thought of a past loved one arises,
I always say a quick hello to them.
Sometimes just in my head but often out loud.
Hello,
Graham.
Good morning,
Terry.
Hi,
Carmen.
And I always say it with a gentle smile,
Both on my face and in my heart.
As I started this little ritual of greeting my loved ones as they came to mind,
I also started noticing the feel of the energy in those moments.
And over time,
I began to notice patterns.
The energy of my grandmother feels like safety.
The energy of my Aunt Carmen sings of joy and gratitude.
The energy of the man I called my dad is clear and calm.
It's no coincidence that these are the attributes I most associate with and most miss about each of those people.
Fine-tuning my awareness of their energy has,
Over the years,
Allowed me to also tap into it when I need it,
Not just in connection to a passing thought or memory.
I often ask them to be with me,
And then I wait in stillness for them to appear.
I don't always perceive them right away.
Sometimes I'm too caught in emotion,
Trying too hard,
Or distracted.
But they always come through eventually,
Even if it takes me looking back to notice when they appeared.
So with all of that in mind,
And I know it's a lot,
This is what I'm inviting for you.
To sit in your grief with me for a moment.
To open your heart and your mind.
And to listen to the messages your grief may be sending you.
If at any time this becomes too intense,
Take whatever care you need to honor your broken heart.
You can always come back to this recording later.
And if you don't get any answers right away,
I encourage you to stay open.
It has been my experience,
Especially with grief,
That clarity isn't always immediate.
Often it trickles in slowly,
A gentle titration of understanding from beyond the veil.
With that in mind,
Let's settle in.
Taking a slow,
Deep breath in.
And a slow breath out.
Again,
Slowly in.
Noticing the weight of your body against the ground,
Mat or cushion.
Gravity deepening its pull on you with each breath.
Heavy.
Secure.
Safe.
Breathing in,
Filling your lungs.
Breathing out,
Letting your body soften and melt into the loving arms of the earth.
Breathing in deeply again.
And breathing out any remaining tension.
Letting it dissolve into the atmosphere.
Lift it off your shoulders until nothing remains but you,
Safe in this moment.
And when you're ready,
Bring to mind the loved one you are missing.
Allow yourself to imagine them here with you in whatever way feels meaningful.
See their smile,
Hear their laugh,
Feel their arms around you.
Imagine yourselves together someplace you both loved.
What are the characteristics you most associate with your loved one?
What did you love most about them?
Allow those qualities to swell and fill your being.
Where do you carry this person in your body?
What do you notice about the sensation?
Is it cool or warm?
Tight or expansive?
Heavy or light?
Are there textures or temperatures that come to mind?
Give yourself a moment to recognize and anchor into the tremendous love that you have.
And then,
Without dimming that love,
Allow yourself to also feel the loss.
This may be intense,
So go at your own pace and stop if you need to.
But if you can,
Try holding both the love and the pain together.
Notice how the intensity shifts.
How love and grief ebb and flow,
Dancing with one another like currents running through you.
And notice how you feel standing in the midst of this dance of love and grief.
And then give yourself a moment to ask within,
Is there anything this grief needs you to know?
Are there any unmet needs it wants you to be aware of?
Any statements of love or affirmation it wishes to express?
And when that feels complete,
Take a moment to offer yourself any validation or reassurance that feels right.
Or offer gratitude for whatever understanding has emerged.
Before we end the meditation,
Let's return once more to the characteristics you most admired in your loved one.
Bring them to the foreground again.
And then reflect or ask within,
Where do you see or feel or notice that same energy currently rippling through your life?
Maybe it's in basking in the beauty of nature,
Or carrying on traditions,
Or channeling their qualities into your relationships with others.
Take a moment to take inventory of how they are still showing up in your life.
Now that you've begun to see how their energy continues to flow,
Consider how you might anchor that awareness as a thread of connection beyond the veil.
Maybe it's starting a connection journal,
Or sharing your experiences with others,
Or simply setting the intention to notice where they show up in your life.
Whatever feels right in your heart.
I would like to end with an excerpt of this poem by Andrea Gibson called Love Letter from the Afterlife.
My love,
I was so wrong.
Dying is the opposite of leaving.
When I left my body,
I did not go away.
That portal of light was not a portal to elsewhere,
But a portal to here.
I am more here than I ever was before.
I am more with you than I ever could have imagined.
So close you look past me when wondering where I am.
It's okay.
I know that to be human is to be farsighted.
But feel me now,
Walking the chambers of your heart,
Pressing my palms to the soft walls of your living.
Why did no one tell us that to die is to be reincarnated in those we love while they are still alive?
My love,
I want to sing it through the rafters of your bones.
Dying is the opposite of leaving.
I want to echo it through the corridor of your temples.
I am more with you than I ever was before.
Do you understand?
It was me who beckoned the stranger who caught you in her arms when you forgot not to order for two at the coffee shop.
It was me who was up all night gathering sunflowers into your chest the last day you feared you would never wake up feeling lighthearted.
I know it's hard to believe,
But I promise it's the truth.
I promise one day you will say it too.
I can't believe I ever thought I could lose you.
As you continue through today and the days ahead,
I encourage you to look for the little ways the energy of those you've lost still ripples through your life.
Give your loved ones a gentle nod.
Bow your head.
Place your hand on your heart and breathe in their love.
And when you feel the ache of grief,
Hold yourself tenderly and remember they aren't lost.
In truth,
They never left.
And to the listener Kendall who specifically requested a meditation on grief,
Thank you.
I believe we are always healing,
Layer by layer,
In relationship to one another.
Writing this meditation facilitated another level of healing within me that I didn't even know I needed.
And for that,
I am so,
So grateful.
Much love.
