Grief and Sorrow act
like their names are on the lease
with Growth and Learning.
~ Lori Allen
I am fifty-eight, almost fifty-nine, years old. How much more Growth and Learning can a person abide? I ask myself this question every time something "happens" to me - an unexpected tax bill; a surgery that is usually saved for the seventh or eighth decade of life; a loved one's struggles with health/finances/sobriety/emotional stability/whateverelse; the state of inequality in all the world; the planet's living occupants dying because of my desire for cheap and readily available resources - to name a few.
I shoulder a lot of burden when it comes to feeling responsible for the heaviness that is a part of all life. On days like this one I wonder why these things happen. No, I wish that things were easier for me. I wish that I'd made different decisions in my life so I'd have more of what I think I need now. I wish I could take the Sorrow and Grief from loved ones and make it disappear from their lives.
Fortunately, when my busy and inept worrying has to pause for breath, my centered and contemplative self speaks up, reminding me that Grief and Sorrow share the same familial DNA as Peace, Joy, and, Gratitude. I am listening. I am making connections. I am remembering lessons from the past. I am closer to becoming a vessel that holds all experiences and all emotions without judgment.
Still, I am not perfect. As I have grown and learned, I have come to value a three-step process for holding, and eventually letting go of, Grief and Sorrow.
First, I treat myself with Compassion. I acknowledge that as I encountered choices and decisions, I was not my best self, or it was a hard day, or an unfair situation. I don't judge. I allow myself to cry, to mourn, to feel the full emotions of the event that brought my old friends Grief and Sorrow to visit.
Second, I move on. While I do not deny or reject Grief and Sorrow, I do not let them define me either. That is where Growth and Learning come in. With each visit from Grief or Sorrow, I understand a bit better how they got there, and if I can, or care to, block them from arriving in the same way again.
Third, I make no promises I know I can not keep. To myself or to others. Here is where I allow Grace to remind me that I am perfect as I am. You, my friends, are too.
Grace is a whisper
that comes in on the same breath
with "what a fuck up."
~ Lori Allen
