Category Archives: Grief

Tender Hearted Warrior: Guest Post for Jamie Ridler

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mettaprayerWednesdays are often the day I wishcast with Jamie Ridler. She provides a prompt and we provide the wishes in response. Jamie has been taking a break from her regular practices and posts because the day after we lost our sweet Dexter, she lost her mom to cancer.

Almost a week before both those sad events, I got an email from Jamie, inviting me to do a guest post on her blog, since she would be taking a break for a bit. She said,

I wondered what would honour my mom, all that I’ve learned from her, all that her life has stood for, and I thought about something she said recently, “It’s not about being tough. It’s about being tender.” And that seemed just right.

My guest post, Tender Hearted Warrior, is up on Jamie’s blog today. The prompt was “It’s not about being tough. It’s about being tender,” and Jamie invited those of us writing to offer whatever came to us as a response, “anything goes.”

It seems so appropriate to me that it was published on a Wishcasting Wednesday. Today, I am wishing Jamie comfort and peace as she lives and loves her way through this difficult time. I wish the same for all those who have lost their mothers, in all the ways that can happen. I wish this same comfort and peace for all of us who have had to let go of someone we love, anyone who has suffered a loss, who carries the heaviness of big love that no longer has the same, familiar place to land, for anyone who is grieving. May we feel this hurt and continue to keep our hearts open.

As I mentioned the other day, I was so happy to support Jamie by writing this post, to have the opportunity to do something, anything for her as she lives this loss. It is becoming more and more clear to me that the only way any of us make it through the confusion and chaos of being human is together, helping each other, showing up, offering support, being kind, because as Ram Dass says “we are all just walking each other home.”

Three Truths and One Wish

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bigdlittled04

1. Truth: Death is real. And it’s not always pretty. It doesn’t always happen painlessly at the end of a long, well lived and loved, full and finished life, with the one who’s leaving in a comfortable bed with candles lit and soft music playing and loved ones all around. It strikes those who are much too young, it is sometimes accidental, sudden, brutal, tragic. Sometimes it’s just not fair, not kind, not easy. But no matter how it comes, how it goes down, every mortal will go, be gone. No matter how well we love or how faithfully we care for each other, we will lose or be lost.

2. Truth: I am still trying to figure out how to live in a world where this is true, where what we love will die. Where we intentionally allow ourselves to be wounded, invite it, where we strip completely naked and hand the one we love the sharpest knife. I have seen death, understand it, have even felt a sort of peace in that moment of letting go, knowing that loved one has been released from their suffering. And yet, I am still trying to figure out how — how to fully surrender to this truth, accept it, stay open to it. Love unbound from form can feel almost like rage, running wild with the desire to smash and burn and break and scream, longing mixed with a strange confusion that insists someone must be to blame, must be punished, so much fierce energy with no place to go.

3. Truth: We are here now, together, and that makes all the eventual pain worth it. As much as I grieve those I have lost, I would not give up the time I had with them in order to avoid this suffering. And there is so much about this life to love. As I was reminded by one big heart today, when I reached out in my confusion, “and yet laughter and yet barbecued chicken and yet a glass of cold water on a hot day, Louis Armstrong, fresh raspberries,” and another reminded me that Winnie the Pooh says, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

Magic is all around, waiting for us to notice and be amazed. On our walk this morning, a butterfly, busy feeding on a flower, let me get closer than I’ve ever been and stayed still so I could take a picture. Ram Dass says “we are all just walking each other home,” and when I can remember that, when I can slow down and see the vivid color and surprise of a butterfly, I feel myself soften, feel the whole tight knot begin to unwind.

One wish: That we stay awake, rather than denying or disconnecting, that we recognize our limitless potential, that we stay open to the connections that heal us, notice the magic and cultivate the medicine.

We are all just walking each other home.