Water reflecting Clouds reflecting Sun. Ecola Creek, Cannon Beach, OR, January 2023. photo by anne richardson
Relief as Hope
I can sense the relief in my interactions with others these days. It is FINALLY light after 5:30pm! Yes! Folks are smiling again. Hope in the form of longer days in the Northern Hemisphere has arrived. We passed the midpoint of winter February 1st and “suddenly” first light crests the horizon well before 7am and daylight lingers longer. Last Tuesday at 6pm when I set out on my Mazama Street Ramble, there was still a vague hint of light in the west as stars started to bud. A clear night blossoming after a day of steady rain.
Nature takes the seasonal shifts in stride. If I look back through my camera roll, there are photos of daffodil tips poking through the soil in February from years past. Already the hellebore are blooming and if I draw a dogwood twig close to my eyes I can see the beginnings of budding. From a distance the deciduous trees appear to still be slumbering, but beneath their exterior they are awakening. It all feels predictable…or at least variations on a theme. And humans, for the most part, like predictable.
Winter’s first light from The Summit before the turning toward spring on February 1st. The calm when the rain is paused is a gentle time on my morning walks. photo by anne richardson
Getting back into a daily writing practice. I like writing in color. What inspires you to write, if that is your practice?
Living Amid Cycles
Living in the Pacific NW, I am immersed in the range of seasonal cycles. I often draw on them in my writing. Winter is dark, damp, and cold. Time to nestle by the hearth and draw inward. As spring begins to warm the earth, life emerges from the ground, fills the air and rivers. Even as winter echos into spring, waves of energy surge through the days. The spiral of life continues and spring moves into summer with all its riotous color and expansion. And, if you are a winter lover like me, the cacophony of summer, full of bird songs, street songs, earth songs can be overwhelming in the midst of gratitude for all the bounty. We “winter people” exhale when the solstice turns us back toward shorter days. The never-quiet days of summer, then slowly ebb into autumn when one day the sparrow’s song is replaced by a cricket’s chirp as you pull on a sweater in the evening and notice the crunch of leaves underfoot as you amble the neighborhood. Feasting on the harvest of all that spring awakening offers the cycle a chance to bow toward winter and once again look forward to rest.
“Noticing” to Build Stronger Connections
Animals, plants, mountains, rivers, fungi, moss and more. They help me navigate life. Joy, Grief, Hope, Loss. We co-inhabit this planet with more beings than I can even imagine. My written words sometime feel constrained by the flat dimension of the alphabet you are reading this in. No rumble, gurgle, flash, feather, squish. As I try to lift the lid, break out of the boxes, known and unknown, I’ve placed myself in, I look more deeply to non-human beings on the planet for wisdom. To listen and notice with more intention.
I’ve returned to a practice of (almost) daily writing (don’t know how I let that one slip away, but I did). I even added a small “noticing” notebook for when I go out to jot down what my senses are picking up on. I’m out of practice and so far my writing is pretty inane! I’ve let that muscle atrophy. What practices do you have that help you notice your environment? For some it is writing. For others drawing, photography, collaging or speaking into your phone’s recorder. It is about reconnecting or building a stronger connection with the world we co-inhabit. It is about getting familiar with the language of crow, deer, maple, fungi, moss, hillside, crack in the pavement where a wee wildflower pushes through, the tree standing alone outside a storefront. Its so we can start having a conversation in their language…whether that be a rustle, a shift in color, tones in cawing, how rain rivulets in a storm, fragile leaves reaching for sun.
Grieving Unknown Languages
I will admit I often transfer my own human emotions onto my experiences with other beings. It takes effort to unlearn my human-centric ways. I feel sad for Tree standing alone surrounded by pavement, not connected to any Tree community so I assume Tree must be sad too. Listening for the language of Tree and what that may teach me takes more effort. It may be sadness…or anger, resignation, or an emotion without a human correlation. Or no emotion at all. This is part of my pondering these days. And a deep-seated Grief of my own. That I lack the language to hold more meaningful conversations, though I am trying. I believe the land I inhabit senses that and will honor my muddling along. How about you? Does this sound far-fetched to you? Do you have a desire to have a deeper connection with the land you live on? Have you had conversations with beings other than human? What was it like for you? Looking back at prior posts, I see this is a recurrent theme, this desire to connect. I remain open to new perspectives. Do you have any you would like to share?
“I must learn the language of rain to speak to plants and the Genesis of how seed turns to flower. ”
Connecting with moss after rain. Trying to “feel” the language of moss.
Ambiguous Loss, Grief & Living With What is Unresolved
Rituals of Wellness?
Whenever I have to “categorize” my business, I am boxed into “wellness,” “health,” and/or “spirituality.” Buzzwords that can mean many things depending on who you ask. I am taking a four-week course through SAND (Science and Non-Duality) with Sophie Strand called The Body is a Doorway, that is expanding my perspective on “the industry of wellness and health” and even my role as a “spiritual practitioner.” Here is a brief description of the course: “What does it mean to have an illness – physical or psychological – that is incurable or terminal? What does it feel like to have a condition that is resistant to diagnoses, treatment, and resolution? Those who are permanently exiled to the kingdom of the unwell are still expected to perform daily penitential rituals of “wellness”, handing over money, time, and physical energy to a process that is closer to haunting than it is to healing.”
As someone with her own “disability,” Sophie asks us to move away from seeing ourselves as individual organisms and consider our symbiotic connection to all beings. How disconnecting from our environment has not served our human bodies. Her essays and workshops have given me food for thought and shifting how I am approaching one of my own chronic health issues (migraines) as well as how I might be a more compassionate presence to those in my spiritual companionship practice. Here is a sample of one of her articles, I Will Not Be Purified. If you choose to read it (and the rest of what I’m writing will make more sense if you do) I would be interested to hear what you think. Like I said, stirring lots of thoughts.
Is It Failure to be Ill?
For me all roads seem to lead to Grief and Loss (I suppose that’s my bias and where my mentor, Grief leads.) As I “compost” Sophie’s words and sort through what I am digesting, I sense ambiguity. From my experience, our culture does not like ambiguity. We (meaning our “health conscious” society in general) prefer fixes and solutions. We desire those who are unwell to pursue all avenues of cure and wellness so we are comfortable. Perhaps we are projecting onto our friends and family who are already in the “kingdom of the unwell,” our own fears of being ill. Of having to ask for help. Or becoming marginalized,
AND I sense that another part of this is our society has enough difficulty grieving death, let alone grieving losses such broken relationships, loss of jobs, loss of dreams, etc. So many losses that go unacknowledged and rarely have a ritual to bring a community (no matter how small) together to give voice to what is gone…or perhaps unresolved but needs breath. What to do with the friend who straddles the world of treatment and non-resolution? How do you honor their choices?
Ambiguous Loss: A Definition
Interrupting this post with a definition: I am in the midst of a course, Ambiguous Loss: Its Meaning and Application that is focused on the work of Pauline Boss who coined the term. Here is the definition: Ambiguous Loss: “a situation of unclear loss that remains unverified and thus without resolution.” Among other situations, it has been applied to folks with dementia and mental health issues, but I also see it applying to folks that are marginalized in our society for not being “whole and healthy.”
“As I release the need to perform completion or healing, I’m more drawn to the idea of alchemical storytelling. If you have a genetic illness with no cure, a divergent nervous system, a wounded heart, if you can’t undo what happened, how can you recontextualize trauma ? How can you tell a new story about it?
”
Acknowledging Disenfranchised Grief
People are complex. There will be folks who are engaging in the healthcare system and/or exploring the wide options of alternative and spiritual healing practices. This can be both/and. For some that is where they find hope. And there are times people need to take a break. I am the first to acknowledge that I affirm the use of medications, psychology, and alternative practices (I am after all a Reiki practitioner.) And I often share a book I am reading that I feel some may find helpful for where they are on their journey.
What I have experienced in our system though and what Sophie so passionately voiced in her essay is when the healing modality does not “heal” or “cure,” we tend to blame the individual. And thus her term that they are exiled to the “kingdom of the unwell.” These folks, I believe, have a grief that has no space for expression. What has been coined by Ken Doka as Disenfranchised Grief. Grief our society has no rituals to acknowledge. Or give voice to. Marginalized. If you aren’t “fighting” or “seeking a solution” the conversation stops.
A Can of Worms
I feel like I’ve open a whole can of lovely worms to put on the compost pile. There is so much here “to process.” (And I haven’t even touched on the trauma portion of Sophie’s work.) I know I’ve said unhelpful things to folks in the past…and will likely say some in the future. Perhaps if you are in the midst of seeking treatments this post will annoy you. In no way am I opposed to medical or other interventions if that is the path of choice. Or maybe you have been struggling to put down the path of treating a chronic issue for a period of time and this will give you permission. As always, take what you need and leave the rest!
Asking Better Questions
I’ve been mulling over better questions to ask my friends who have a chronic condition. Such as “what need can I meet today?” “is there a story you would like to share with me?” “what do you experience when you go out and would you like to share? i’ll listen.” “know a good joke?” Okay, I’m not sure about that last one, but humor can be helpful. If you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them.
Being with ambiguity. With something that won’t be resolved means being patient. Not fixing or solving. Asking kind questions of how someone wants you to be present. And messing up and asking forgiveness when you do.
I’m sure I’ll come back to this in future posts, but will leave it here for now. I hope you found something to ponder. Perhaps a nugget to put in your back pocket. Share with your neighborhood tree or crow.
Ah, Retreat Time
And to wrap up, I was able to sneak away to the Northern Oregon Coast for three nights at the end of January. Ah, my heart place. Where I replenish my energy, my soul, my body. Long strolls, sand and rock, geese and elk, Mother Ocean, Sun, and Moon. Deep sleep. I could not have asked for a better retreat. I am not sure when I will get away again, so very grateful for what I was offered.
I hope you are finding gentle and kind ways to care for your heart, your body, your soul.
as always, deeply grateful for you
anne
North Oregon Coast sunset with waning moon. Janary 2023. photo by anne richardson
PS: Even as I prepared to post this, I couldn’t solidify a title. I returned to my recent retreat at the coast. My conversation was with Sand, the dweller of threshold space. Between Land and Ocean space. That is where the language for ambiguous loss and disenfranchised grief will evolve…I think. I don’t know. It just arose as I struggled with a title.
For Your Reflection
how have you considered your relationship with the world you inhabit? do you have a desire to have a deeper connection with the land you live on? have you had conversations with beings other than human? what was it like for you?
what practices do you have that help you notice your environment? these can be ways you check in with your “self” in general.
do you have a chronic or “unresolvable” illness? how do you engage with the community of health and wellness? with friends and family? what resonated or didn’t about what was offered in the post? if you are a family member or friend of someone with a chronic condition, take some time to reflect on how you engage with them. is there anything you might change? are there questions you would ask?
have you heard of ambiguous loss before? disenfranchised grief? have you had losses in the past or currently that feel “unclear and unresolved?” a grief that has been marginalized? what comes up for you when you remember this grief or loss? i’ll come back to this in future posts, but do reach out if you have questions.
usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to be kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others.
What I’m Reading
The Spell of the Sensuous by David Abram, an “ecological philosopher” among other things. I am slowly chewing on this 1996 book that, besides for some anachronisms, could have been written in the last five years. You can tell it is giving me a lot to consider from my thoughts above. Here is a blurb from “the net”: “The Spell of the Sensuous is a keystone work of ecological philosophy – a book that startles the senses out of habitual ways of seeing and hearing, awakening us to our immersion in a living world….The book unfolds into an exploration of language, and of the power our words have to enhance or to stifle the spontaneous life of the senses. Contrasting the spoken stories of diverse indigenous oral cultures with ways of speaking common to literate civilization, The Spell of the Sensuous reveals the profound impact that writing (and the alphabet) has had upon the human experiences of time, of space, of earthly place.”
Heart Radical, A Search for Language, Love, and Belonging by Anne Liu Kellor. Just finished reading this memoir. What an honest reflection of the author’s early to mid-twenties. The author, who faithfully kept a journal as she traveled and lived in China (her mother’s homeland), shares with a wisdom I know I didn’t have at her age. Here is a short blurb to spark your interest: “I wanted to understand how my path was tied to my mother tongue. As a young, multiracial, American woman, I traveled through China, the country of my mother’s birth. Along the way, I tried on different roles—seeker, teacher, student, girlfriend, artist, and daughter— continually asking myself: Why am I called to make this journey?” I highly recommend this book.
Grief Odds and Ends
Wait a minute! They (my friends) didn’t tell me this series was about grief. Started watching “Shrinking” on Apple TV. The premise is about a psychologist who isn’t coping well. We find out his wife died a year earlier and, well it seems to be rippling through his work, relationships, and a lot more. Have watched four episodes and so far I haven’t yelled at the TV for how Grief has been handled. Actually seems pretty close to what I’ve witnessed. I think my free trial will run out before the series finishes. OH NO!
David Brooks of the New York Times wrote a heart essay, “How Do You Serve A Friend In Despair” about how his best friend died by suicide last year and all the ways he tried to “help” him. Yes, I’ve tried them all too with loved ones with chronic depression. He shared about his helplessness at not knowing how to be with his friend. And he shared about two other deaths of good friends in the last year. Yes, Grief. I don’t know if this is behind a paywall, but if you can’t get access, let me know and I will find a way to get the article to you.
If you have thoughts of suicide, please call 988, the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline.
And a wee remembrance. Feb 15th is the five year anniversary of my mum’s death. She had Alzheimer’s disease, though it was congestive heart failure that saw her over the threshold. Ambiguous Loss. One of the two types is when someone is “physically present but psychologically absent.” And it certainly doesn’t have a resolution until death. Disenfranchised Grief is also part of the Alzheimer’s (and any dementia) journey. So, yes, I’ve been drawn down the path I wrote about today for personal reasons. Anyway, I’ve been working on a remembrance poem, but it just isn’t quite there. Maybe I’ll share later. So for now, Remembering you. Love you.
Closing Poem
Sometime you randomly pick up a book from your collection of poetry open to a page and a poem fits the theme of this blog. To close I offer Watchers from Harvesting Fog, by poet Luci Shaw.
WATCHERS
Behold the fleck of ant
bearing with diligence his large
load of crumb down the long
mile of floorboard.
If, by observation, we become
part of an insect’s life, is he
aware of us?
What thread of vision
links antic and observant?
What false criterion of size?
And who is it who, watching us,
whispers Watch for Who it is
Who watches you?
