The Time Is Here to Grieve

During an artist residency sponsored by the Kentucky Foundation for Women and the Sisters of Loretto, and inspired by rich conversation with wise souls, I wrote the following piece.

While still at Loretto, in a sweet little house surrounded by pasture and curious cows, I recorded the poem, which you can listen to below.

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The time is here to grieve. 

The time is here to open up  to change, to loss,  to “I’ve never lived in this world before.”

What do you know?  Practically nothing. 

What do you want?  For the pain to go away. 

 Then you must let it go. 

Holding onto the fear, the hurt, the sorrow,  stuffing them down into your body,  only inflames your being.  

Grasping at what cannot be contained  only exacerbates exhaustion. 

Clinging to the known,  even as it slips away,  only prolongs despair.  

Allow yourself despair.  Let it flow through you,  washing you,  dirty, clean,  wearing away your edges.  Softening. 

You cannot know the next life  while you are clutching.  You cannot see it  if you are only looking backward.  

Look around.  Who is here with you?  Who holds your hand?  The gentle, warm touch  may change nothing  except to remind you  that you are not alone. 

Look ahead.  Do you tremble at the fog?  Do you tense with every  “I don’t know“?  Are you willing to  step forward anyway? 

Look to Mother Earth.  Notice that She is steady  under your feet.  She is all around you,  cradling you.  She will not fall away,  even if you betray Her.  She will sustain you  with her tender-fierce  maternal care. 

If you let her. 

Stomp!  Wail!  

Fall to your knees  in the  relief  of  surrender. 

The time is now to cry.  The cry is now to Time.  

More time!  Mourn time.  

Grief flowing transforms.  Grief stagnant petrifies.  

What do you choose? 

River or fossil?

Practicing Acceptance

Just a few weeks ago I was excited about starting Reimagining ME: Mindful Explorations, a program for women to explore the forgotten, lost, cut-off parts of ourselves and reclaim (or claim for the first time) our Wisdom. A few days ago I started the process...by myself.

In the weeks leading up to the program start, a few women signed up. Hooray! Their enthusiasm fueled my own. Other women expressed their affirmation and interest in the program. Yay! And then one by one, each of these told me that, for one reason or another, the timing just wasn't right. Every time I heard or read the words, it stung. For a few weeks my being had been hanging precariously in the space between hope, defensiveness ("This is a really great program!"), resolve ("I'm going to make this happen!") and impending grief.

As the days went by, it became ever clearer that this program that I had created, that I loved, that I was excited to share again wasn't going to happen this fall. Working with a mentor, I finally accepted what I didn't want to accept. In that acceptance, I allowed myself both to hear the affirmations ("This looks like an amazing program and I want to do it") and the less-welcome parts of the message ("And now's not the right time."). I allowed myself to grieve the present loss. I allowed myself to accept that sometimes, like now, the timing I want is not in sync with the timing of the Universe, or God, or Spirit, or whatever you may call the force that is both beyond us and holding us.

Once I let it sink in and shed some tears (perhaps not as gracefully as I'd have liked), I began to feel some spaciousness within me. "Okay, so if I'm not doing that, what am I doing this fall?"

Here is what I know so far: I am now able to offer time to some family members in a way I wouldn't have been able to if I were facilitating the program. I may now be able to take a class I wouldn't have been able to take. Several pieces of new work have come my way. I can focus on another idea I had to put down for a time.

And I am accompanying myself through the Reimagining ME process in a way that would be difficult if I were both participating and facilitating. I am curious about how this solo journey will affect how I accompany others the next time.

The next time...With the clarity that "not now" isn't the same as "never again," I have looked ahead to 2022, specifically at Mondays, since that's the day I've offered Reimagining ME before. Valentine's Day 2022 is on a Monday.

"Aaaaah, that's it." What better day to enter into a journey of self-love and discovery than Valentine's Day? It feels aligned. When I spoke to those who had signed up for the fall, several said they are equally ready to join me starting in February.

I know it's still possible that the Universe may have other ideas. Only time will tell.

There have been numerous times when I've thought I knew what and when I was going to do something... or when and how something was going to happen... and the plans, without my consent, took a pivot that jolted me back to the awareness that I don't always have the last say. Jobs coming and going. People coming into and out of my life. Trips planned and cancelled. What happened with Reimagining ME is just one more example.

I'm pretty sure all of us have experienced this over and over...and over again in 2020 and 2021.

So what can we do?

We can practice acceptance.

I want to emphasize that acceptance is, in fact, a practice. Perhaps the practice is guided by the Serenity prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Perhaps the practice is guided by this beautiful chant whose words are:

I release control
and surrender to the flow
of love that will heal me.

Acceptance invites us into the humility of admitting that we can only control so much.

Acceptance invites us to test out whether we believe that there is never failure, only lessons (a mantra I adopted after reading adrienne maree brown's Emergent Strategy).

Acceptance invites us to practice softness through mourning. Miki Kashtan calls it mourning the gap: recognizing and grieving the space that lives between our vision of how we want the world/our lives/something to be and the reality of the world/our lives/something. Mourning connects us to our hearts and often also to other people in ways that resistance does not.

When we have space and allow ourselves to grieve (this space may not be equally afforded to all), we may find that grieving, surrendering to what is, makes space for possibilities we can't see or invite in when we are filling ourselves up with, or armored with, resistance. At the very least, expressing grief and practicing acceptance may offer the relief of release.


How have you responded to unexpected- or perhaps even expected- pivots of life?

When have you been able to practice acceptance during these turns?

When have you resisted?

How did it feel to be in the spaces of acceptance or resistance?

How has allowing grief or "mourning the gap" changed you?

P.S. Though Reimagining ME is no longer a group offering this fall, I do have other workshops and classes coming up. On October 2, I am offering Bridging Divides: Finding Connection in Disconnected Times. In this workshop I'll share strategies for communicating in difficult conversations. We'll have time to discuss the principles and strategies and practice! I have a few other events, too. If you want to know more about them, visit this page.

Also last week, I had the great pleasure of offering a presentation for JustFaith Ministries' 20th Anniversary Celebration: Meeting in the Field: Exploring a Nonviolent Communication Framework. If you're curious about Nonviolent/Compassionate Communication, you can watch the replay of my presentation here (my part starts at 4:30).

Allowing Space for Heaviness and Lightness

Even on days heavy with grief, there are reminders that there is more than grief…

Today I went walking.

Six feathers met me at different points on the path of my meandering.

One sweet, small, delicate feather floated from the sky into my hand.

Seven total.

Bright flowers presented their beauty.

Bees did what bees do, ensuring that the flowers will bloom again, that sweetness will continue to exist in our world.

Seven collected feathers felt like too many to carry away.

What if someone else needed their light reminders of divine presence? We are not alone.

What if someone else needed to remember that freedom and joy are possible? Rising in lightness is within reach, if not in this moment, in another.

I left four feathers in simple formation.

I carried three away.

I suspect that these three will pass from my hands to someone else’s when it is time.

~~~

Feeling the grief is important. Allowing ourselves support to do so- from humans, Spirit, any light-filled source- is also important.

However you are moving through this day and this day is moving through you, I hope that your needs are met in expansive and beautiful ways. I hope you feel the love that surrounds you and the love that lives within you.