To everything there is a season, … A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance… The Book of Ecclesiastes.
It seems almost shameful to speak of grief or sadness this time of year, like we are undermining the good cheer or betraying a dark secret.
But let’s be real. These times can be painful.
For many the losses are piled higher than the gifts and the heart remains empty while the belly is stuffed – if we are the fortunate ones who get presents and a good meal.
At this moment, in our wealthy city of Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, the police are strategizing their procedure for removing tent encampments where homeless people have gathered with all their worldly possessions because there is no room in the Inn. (Yes, the Government says that there is adequate housing, but I worked in Social Services and I know how they manipulate those figures.)
And there are those of us who find ourselves without family and belongings, displaced to the other side of the world because our homeland is being destroyed by conflict.
What to do in these times?
Grieve it and weep.
Sure, this is not a popular option in our society. No one likes to cry in their beer. It is lonely and not in the least bit pleasurable.
Our alternative is to stuff our life with stuff – distractions, busyness, recreational shopping, anything to dull or distance us from the pain, a la …
When I am feeling lonely, touch-deprived, abandoned, what can I do?
Post something on FaceBook and wait for a like?
If I am quarantined and can’t go out into the community or see family, how do I dull the ache?
Go online shopping?
(Even now, as I write this, I am distracted by persistent web ads. What will it be? A nasal irrigation pump or an indestructible drone? Haven’t I always wanted an indestructible drone? But what I really need is a nasal irrigation pump!)
We do what we can to assuage the pain. It is sometimes simply a matter of survival, of making it through the day. Fair enough.
But the soul distress doesn’t go away with these distractions. It just goes deeper. Grief will have its day.
Grief is …
… straddling that cavernous breach between the certainty of yesterday and the fog of the future.
… the cleansing of the soul with tears, letting the emptiness wash over and over, until we fear we will drown.
… a heart pulse check, telling me I am still alive, that I am a feeling, caring, sensitive human being with all my needs and insecurities and just enough courage and character to confront them honestly.
Never waste a tear.
Lesson learned. They cost too much.
“Grief is the price we pay for loving.” Colin Murray Parkes.
Grief tells me what is important to me, what is core for my health and well-being.
Some sadnesses are washed away quickly, others leave an indelible wound which seemingly will never heal.
And maybe I don’t want them to.
How often will I gaze at pictures of my children with my eyes misting over?
Hopefully always.
How long will it be before I stop reminiscing about our pet dog, Sport?
Hopefully never.
Will I ever forget the last Christmas celebrated with my lifelong friend before he drank himself to death?
Hopefully not.
Tend to soul.
Strangely, these days, I welcome the tears of grief more and more frequently. They cleanse and renew as I await with patience something richer and more expansive.
Consider this counsel from a sage for the age, Rumi, a 13th century Sufi master and ecstatic dancer.
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
— Jalaluddin Rumi, translation by Coleman Barks (The Essential Rumi)
No more blue Christmases here. 23 years of hard work and joy. As I welcome my golden years there is just joy. Most joyful of all is to be dancing. Dancing for as long as god lets me. I too feel for the homeless, they all have a mother and they all have a story. The government should not be above the law nor should the homeless. There is help for those who will accept it. A look at the other side is the senseless crime. Attacks to those using the transit system, fires, and vandalism. Some one set fire to the fence of a foster home. Hard to find compassion when a window was smashed out of my hard work just to be mean. My donations and compassion go to homeless women fleeing domestic abuse. Perhaps the government is putting out a message.
Fabulous…..thank you Aiden for this gentle reminder. “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.”
Thank you, Aiden. This blog sure struck a chord in my heart. You are a great writer.
Thanks so much. GLad to hear it spoke to you.