Thursday, January 7, 2016
What if there was no such thing as love just proof of love??
Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it without knowing what’s going to happen next.
I really wanted to be freed from the endless suffering the brain can create when I keep going back to second guess my actions. Truly, this second-guessing is wasted energy. These thoughts are a non-thing, something the mind creates.
Why you ask?
Because we are human, the left-brain has a field day analysing. Try not to analyse too much when you’re grieving it can put you into a downward spiral.
When we are grieving the present moment is our friend. I know this because it is what helps me now....
When you are beating your beautiful self up, please go into your heart. Sit down, put your hand on your heart, close your eyes, and breathe, just breathe, slow down the breath slows down the busy mind.
Losing a loved one is so traumatic no matter the age, changing your life forever.
As you sit please bring the most loving memory of the loved one into your heart. Continue to breathe in and out slowly.
When you think of a loving memory, bring in all the senses too. The smells, the FEELINGS, laughter, warm smiles, hugs.
See the colours of the memory and even what you may have heard.
Recall that life, and the gifts that came with it.
You can change that downward spiral; get out of that loop in the brain. As with any new practice take your time with this.
If the mind wanders gently bring it back with the breath even if you have to say the words I am breathing in… I am breathing out. All this little mindful exercise does is slow down the brain, refocusing into the present moment.
I’ve been thinking about it because something occurred to me:
When I was born, I became a daughter.
When I was two, I became a sister.
After that time, I became a friend and a student, many times over.
As an adult I became a spouse, and then a mother, and then a teacher.
I am still, and will always be, each of these. Once you assume these roles you have them for life, even when you are not actively playing them.
When I am talking about critical thinking to my friends, I am still a mother.
When I am comforting my son, I am still a daughter.
When I am walking with a friend, I am still a spouse.
As I am writing these words, I am still a sister.
To live means that I have to grieve, in whatever way grief shows up every day. Grieving is now part of being me.
It does not define me any more than my other roles define me, but it is an essential ingredient in the recipe of who I have become.
Without it, everything would fall in on itself, like a cake without leavening, and I would be diminished, neither fully myself nor fully alive.
There’s this idea floating around that to bring grieving to a close should allow love and life to flow as before, unburdened, but to me the opposite is true.
Once it begins, grieving feeds into living like water from a new spring feeds a stream, then a river, then the ocean.
It must flow freely to allow life to continue. To shut it off is to slow life to a trickle. In fact it seems that the more authentically we can experience grief’s ebb and flow as it comes up, the more we are able to welcome everything that life still offers us.
Grieving in some form will always be a part of me now, as I am always a mother, always a daughter, always a sister.
So yes, I’m “still” grieving.
That means I’m also breathing, laughing, crying, thinking, striving, and living.
Just help me face what I feel rather than shut it off or turn away...
love light and peace