Waning summer moon at sunrise. The rhythm of days and seasons is a reminder that even in the midst of overwhelm, Earth’s cycles continue. photo by anne richardson
Seasonal Changes As Medicine
They are back! Crickets’ chirping filling every crevice of air from twilight to well after moonrise. Softening as night deepens. It soothes me. The heat of summer has waned for now and fans are off. The constant whirl of blades and the clicking on/off of my portable A/C (to which I offer copious gratitude) entered my inner world as invader not kin. The return of the crickets offers a reminder. Reminder that this long, hot, dry season is moving forward toward autumn, my favorite season.
The unfolding of seasonal change. The monthly moon cycle. Visiting the Oregon Coast and watching the daily ebb and flow of the tide. This is the medicine I need—the reminder that time continues to weave a story beyond my own. Nature helps me step outside my story. Shift perspectives. Return to gratitude. I didn’t realize how much I needed that reminder.
Grief Comes In The Side Door
In my last post I kept bumping into myself. Couldn’t solidify a theme. Tossed my words out and rewrote them. It has happened again. I’m wandering in a maze of thoughts. I begin writing. A week passes. Then two. Start over. Start over again. And then I realize: I am grieving and that often causes confusion. Does this sound familiar? Do you have days you find it difficult to focus?
Confusion is common when grieving. Neskowin, Oregon. photo by anne richardson
Wisdom From Grief: Being Compassionate With The Hurt
My grief? My heart hurts for the pain of the world. So much happening in quick, overlapping succession. This summer has been hard. So I returned to my mentor, Grief, and asked for help. My mentor listened and offered: Listen to the pain. Don’t run from it. Be gentle with it, but you don’t have to hold on to it. Rest. Have compassion for others and yourself. Not easy…but a way to be without being overwhelmed.
Deep Listening As Succor
I met recently with my spiritual director and shared my own sense of unease and disconnection with some of my spiritual practices (also not unusual when grieving.) When I walk among the neighborhood trees that are dry from the drought, I sense their stress. I feel helpless and wonder what I can offer knowing I can’t water them all. (My director offered a wonderful suggestion of a ritual watering, a way of reconnecting.)
Tree heart at Cape Mears, Oregon. photo by anne richardson
In meditation my mind is over-processing the news plus all the education I’ve been doing on trauma-informed care recently. Too much thinking. She suggested collage alongside journaling (which I have found very helpful in the past) might be a creative alternative. I have also found taking a 20-minute Epsom salt bath at night calms me. Baths, something I saw only as a rare treat, have become sanctuary.
She listened as I shared my heart’s hurt. My default copings. My yearnings, which are being drowned under so much self-infused noise. Where I still find flow: writing poems that connect to photos I have taken. So much unfolding! I tell you, what we do as spiritual companions is so helpful!
So much of these losses I am experiencing are intangible, ambiguous. Perhaps that feels familiar to you?
Time to Slow Down
I say to folks, “Sorry, you can’t fail at Grief.” That there is no right way to grieve. Or experience loss. For some, they may draw comfort from their routine spiritual practices. For others they may feel a disconnection and seek out new ways to find solace.
My own drifting away was subtle until one day I was thinking about signing up for yet another “educational opportunity” and I had to stop myself and say “Why are you adding yet one more thing to your calendar?” “Distraction," was the answer. Yearning for stillness yet staying busy. No wonder I’ve been feeling a sense of disquiet. It is time to slow down. Way down. I hadn’t “failed” at Grief. It just took time to recognize that I was grieving.
“You cannot fail at Grief.”
Taking a Collective Exhale
And that is what the crickets brought me back to. The beat of my own heart syncing with their song settling into the longer nights. Autumn extends a hand to me, says “let’s slow dance. Sway.” Yes, life is still hard and full of hurt. All that is happening out in the world isn’t stopping, but perhaps my calm breaths, my slower pace will ease an iota of pain. And if you can slow dance with the lingering evenings and take a few longer exhales and send a few calm breaths out, maybe, just maybe we can ease some of the hurt collectively. That’s my invitation to you.
in gratitude,
anne
For Your Reflection
A poem I have found helpful is, Come with Me, by Naomi Shihab Nye. Sparse and wise. It offers me a way to not get trapped in the overwhelm. How does this poem speak to you?
Come with Me
To the quiet minute
Between two noisy minutes
It’s always waiting to welcome us
Tucked under the wing of the day
I’ll be there
Where will you be?
As this season wanes (either summer into autumn or winter into spring for those in the Southern Hemisphere) what are you noticing? Each season has gifts and each has challenges (or invitations.) My spiritual director offered me this invitation: list the gifts and hard things from summer (or at the end of any season) and create a ritual to honor and release what has been listed. What might this look like for you?
What losses are you grieving currently? What emotions stir as you reflect on your list? Notice where those emotions sit in your body. You don’t have to “do” anything with them, though it is helpful to breathe in and out slowly and as deeply as possible when you check-in with your body. Just notice and be curious. Set aside judgment. Numbness is okay.
What spiritual practices help you connect to your Source? Is your connection strong, weak, intermittent these days? What sustains you in those times when you are in dry periods?
Who supports you? Who do you support? What does community look like to you these days?
How are you taking care of yourself in general through the waves of the pandemic, especially with the current Delta variant dominating the headlines? Are you being kind and gentle to YOU? Compassionate?
Worthwhile (I hope) Bit and Pieces
August 30th as been designated national Grief Awareness Day (though in a grief aware world, every day we would wake up aware.) I recently watched the documentary, Speaking of Grief., which is free on Vimeo. Their website has great resources. I highly recommend both the documentary and website. What I offer as support to those who are grieving is based on the wisdom of others (some shared in Speaking of Grief) as well as my own work and personal experiences. Please, to better care for yourself and those you love, become Grief Aware. Everyone encounters loss. Everyone will grieve.
I found two recent OnBeing podcasts left me pondering on a deeper level. The first was Sharon Saltzberg’s talk with host Krista Tippet on the topic “The Healing Is In The Return.” There are several sections that spoke to me, but for the sake of brevity what I appreciated was this: “Some things just hurt.,” so no matter how spiritually astute you are, you don’t get a pass on pain. And one other line which quoted a psychologist, “The brain filled with shame cannot learn.” That to me is a powerful statement.
The second OnBeing podcast was with Kevin Kling, titled “The Losses We Grow Into.” He discusses wounds, physical, emotional, and so much more. Here is the quote that lingers with me: “The heart is an instrument, once broken, never repairs the same. I use the word “trauma” in my work, because a loss is a loss, whether it’s a heart, a limb, a promise, a person. It’s all loss, and it’s all trauma, and it’s all things that are broken that can’t be cured. You can’t go back. But you can heal it, and that’s an important thing to know.”
I finished reading The Body Keeps The Score. Brain, Mind, and the Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessle Van Der Kolk, MD. Excellent read. He was recently interviewed by Ezra Klein if you would like an up-to-date discussion of his work.
If you are interested in expanding your understanding of Collective Trauma, but have a limited budget, the annual Collective Trauma Summit 2021 is September 19-28 and is free (with a paid upgrade available.) It was last year’s summit that set me off on my current journey to update my trauma-informed care. I plan to attend (without over-scheduling myself) this year…after all, some of my favorite poets will be sharing about Poetry for Collective Healing.
And finally, something for fun. I added this new app to my phone and I LOVE it: Merlin Bird ID by Cornell Labs. It is FREE. You can record sound or take a photo and the app will ID birds in the area. I am learning a lot about the birds in my neighborhood.
Sharing a wee joy. I recently had my poem, Snag, accepted by Tiny Seed Literary Journal for their Forest Anthology series. So very honored and grateful.
Upcoming IN-PERSON Workshop
Listening to Loss: A Labyrinth & Writing Workshop
Saturday, Oct 23rd, 1-5pm
Due to the unfolding situation with the Delta variant, we prefer to hold off on payment until we know if in-person events will be allowed in late October. See website for further details about Covid guidelines.
Have you allowed yourself to exhale yet? Taken time out to grieve your losses since the beginning of the pandemic? Do those losses need space to speak? What would they say?
The world urges us to move forward. To move past without deep reflection. Rarely are we encouraged to take time to stop. Breathe. Rest. To listen to what might be stirring. Told instead to “shush” that quite voice…until our bodies physically tell us otherwise.
Tell the world to shush. Gift yourself space to listen to your losses. To grieve.
In this experiential workshop, participants will be given opportunities to give voice to losses in their life through walking a labyrinth, use of poetry and open writing reflections. Though the focus is on the pandemic, all losses are welcome. Don’t worry if you are unfamiliar with the labyrinth. You’ll be introduced to the archetype of the labyrinth as a tool to reflect on your life path. This workshop is in partnership with Portland Women Writers (http://pdxwomenwriters.com/) and is for women and those who identify female. No writing experience is necessary to participate! Workshop is limited to 12 participants.
I am excited to introduce you to my co-facilitator for this workshop, Anne Buck. Anne and I met two decades ago in seminary. We have taught classes, co-facilitated workshops in the past, laughed, cried, journeyed, dug into the muck together. She is one of my soul sisters. It was Anne that introduced me to the labyrinth. I am so honored that we can offer this workshop together. Here is a wee bit of information about Anne:
Anne Buck, MA - Oma, Artist, Truth-teller. Anne is trained as a Licensed Massage Therapist. She is a retired Board Certified Chaplain, Certified Veriditas Labyrinth Facilitator and Certified Spiritual Director. She has walked with others through pain, grief and loss, in body and spirit, and life and death events. She volunteers at the Dougy Center for Grieving children.
Recently, she has been caregiving for her mother and her husband, both living with dementia following strokes. Anne adores her grands, looks for beauty and meaning every day and loves her dog, Cooper. She collects feathers and rocks, random hearts and images in her phone and enjoys the beach more than anyone can understand.
Please click on the link for more details.
