As Seasons Shift, So Do Songs

As summer wanes the songs of birds have also waned. I am no longer roused from sleep by the Dark-eyed Juncos’ romancing lilt an hour before the sun rises. Spring desire stirred their songs to life, along with Robins, Chickadees, Nuthatches, and so many more back when Rain still canvased Pacific Northwest landscape. Now the Junco’s nesting season is over, other wee birds stop by for sips from the birdbaths (Juncos understandably did not want to share space while they were parenting and kept other birds at bay.) I welcome the return of the full calliope.

It has been a dry summer and after several years of tending the two birdbaths on my deck, the wee artificial ponds seems to be a known location, especially to Goldfinches, which sometimes come as a flock. And if I am paying keen attention, a Stellar’s Jay occasionally stops by, hops about on the railing, sips, and is gone. Oh, and then there is Squirrel. Always Squirrel. Year round. Digging at my pots, first hiding food in the summer, then looking for it as winter wears on. A bold being, Squirrel.

Listening Beyond the Clutter of Daily Living

There is still birdsong lingering in the air, wispy and melancholic. I don’t know that I noticed this in previous seasons, the shift in song as the seasons shift. How these instinctual beings tune into the seasons through their voice. With all the distraction we humans clutter around our daily living it is easy to miss subtle changes. Are the birds who head south singing a travel song? The ones that stay behind singing a harvest song? Or, perhaps it is related to our changing climate. A lament perhaps. I suppose ornithologists study such things, but I prefer to leave it to my imagination.

I’m left wondering how our own internal songs shift with our life shifts. How our cluttered lives mask the sound of our own voice. Our own songs. This noticing, or not noticing, of how our lives are entwined with the beings that we co-exist with…it is the enchantment that I wrote about in my previous blog, Weaving Grief Into Our Enchanted Lives.

Discovering Grief’s Notes in Our Voices

Grief and loss can be found in our voice. Our songs. That is what I hear in the wispy and melancholic birdsong drowned beneath the droning traffic. “We are letting go of our nests. We are letting go of our fledgelings that did not survive. We are letting go of feathers and flowers and summer abundance. We are breathing in smoky air.” There are notes of joy in the songs, too. For the wee ones that fledged and are flying free. For soaring on winds that are first to announce autumn’s advance. For the taste of sweet berries hidden deep in thickets.

When we don’t speak our losses, they lie fallow in our bodies, an unsung melody, waiting to be composed. When we don’t sound out our joy, opportunity to share beauty is missed. Coursing through the air together, all our sadness and joy may sound cacophonous, overwhelming even. But listen carefully and what you hear is the soul of a community. It is more vibrant than traffic noise, I assure you.

Grief Literacy For All

I have been spending time listening to a variety of podcasts, reading articles and relishing poems, some intentionally about Grief and loss, others it arises incidentally. What I am learning, and I’m learning a lot, is that there are many, many ways to be with loss. To grieve. No one person or program or theory you need to “buy into” to be with your losses. I have discovered that allowing Grief to be my mentor has opened up my capacity to be with loss, my own and with others. I see Grief as an archetype (an archetype is a pattern that connects the people of the world across time and culture.) And for some of you that might resonate, or at least, it makes enough sense that you hang around (thank you.) Others have a different relationship when engaging with Grief.

There are many folks doing amazing work around Grief and loss that I recommend and value (some are listed in my ever expanding Resource section.) Because this journey is both/and, there is room for many ways of being. Being with Grief is part of our human experience. Part of any Being’s experience, I would be so bold as to add. There are so many approaches because there are many cultures and so many of “us.”

In our Western culture we squelched the voice of Grief (a long history here I won’t go into.) That is starting to shift. One thought is the pandemic and all the losses that flowed from that, cascaded into a movement that was already underway. I am grateful for the shift, if not all the loss that came about from the pandemic…losses that are still echoing throughout the world.

Find Grief Support That Works For You

I encourage you to find a resource, a program, a spiritual connection, a bereavement group, a writing/art group, a website, a community, etc…that opens up space for you to be in relationship with Grief. (I offer spiritual companionship for those grieving (and more) if that interests you.)

The only one I ask you to give side-eye to is if the focus is on “The Five Stages of Grief” theory. This has been a wildly taken out of context study made popular in Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’ 1969 book, On Death and Dying. Briefly, she conducted the study on a small sample of patients. It was related to dying patients, not the bereaved or those experiencing any other type of loss. It was NOT meant to be translated to Grief-work and be a linear way of being in Grief. Or limited to five “stages”…which has taken on a life of its own in our popular culture! (Hopping off my soapbox now.)

Grieving is Part of Living Fully

My mentor Grief continues to teach me how to live fully. To not be afraid to look at my sadness. My confusion. My discomforts. My losses—especially those less obvious. This sun-spin year (my birthday is coming up) as been up and down. Down and up. If you have followed my blog you may have noticed enthusiasm about possible moves. Dreams. Changes afoot. Then letting go. New ideas. A sense of clarity, only to have that fall into confusion. Nothing “earth-shattering” has happened. It has been five years since my mother died and since then, no one near and dear to me has moved beyond the veil. Yes, in the last five years I have felt some deep Grief that has been non-death related and I have shared that in my writing. But recent losses have left me feeling like the late summer birds, my song wispy and melancholic, when I can find it. The tune just out of tune.

Calling in Community Wisdom

Because I believe in community yet sometimes forget I am part of one…I remembered I have a “Wise Counsel” of embodied folks to call on for support. (I highly recommend finding wise folks to gather around you when you need to get out of your own way.) Just asking for their deep listening and words spoken back has released a space inside for my deeper losses to start humming a soft tune. I have given myself permission to SLOW DOWN. To write into the wise questions and observations offered. To sit. To be. And trust.

Grief & Loss Check-in

This blog is, in part, to acknowledge the seasonal losses, the micro losses, the “tap-you-on-the-shoulder” losses that come about as we grow and change through life. As dreams come and go…some fulfilled, some not. When I stopped, took a breath and noticed my sadness, confusion, discomforts. When I made space to call in my wise community, I allowed myself room to do what I’m calling a “Grief & Loss Check-in.” I recommend this even if life is humming along. Take a few minutes to check in with your emotions. Your body. Your life. See if there is any sadness, anger, weariness, confusion or other emotion/body-sense lying just below the surface. Be curious about what that might be telling you. For example: Perhaps something joyful is happening in your life, like a young adult child or best friend moving away to start a job. You are excited for them and…and what? What does the move stir up about your relationship? Is there some loss to reflect on? Something to grieve? A ritual needed maybe?

We live in a world designed to keep us from reflecting. Designed to keep us “moving along” in the interest of, well, that is something to consider too. Who benefits from your not pausing?

Singing Your Losses Into Being

So I hope you will take time to acknowledge and honor your losses. To hum. To sing them into being and be heard alongside your joy and wonder. Songs of Grief and Lament as well as Praise and Gratitude. Our community needs the full calliope of sound.

in deep gratitude,

anne

ps—Crickets have returned! Their nighttime serenade soothes and delights me. I am enchanted.

For Your Reflection

• take a few minutes to do a “grief & loss check-in.” first check in with your emotions. your body. your life. see if there is any sadness, anger, weariness or other emotion/body-sense lying just below the surface. be curious about what that might be telling you. what are you noticing? you don’t necessarily need to “do” anything with it, but if you decide to give this loss a voice, what might it say or sing? how might you honor it? is there someone you would like to share it with?

• who is your community of “wise folk” you go to for support? and who would consider you one of their “wise folk?” these are not folks that offer solutions or fixes, but will listen deeply and you trust to be truthful in their discernment….and then allow you make your choice without judgment.

• do you have “go to” Grief resources/communities that support you? what led you to them? what have you found meaningful about their support? how do you support others on their Grief journeys? and please, if you have a meaningful resource, send any info my way for me to check out!

• speaking of “moving on,” most folks have “moved on” from the pandemic, but the effects still linger for many and there are new variants (as i write this i have a my first case of Covid from the new variant, though fortunately, fairly mild.) do you have any lingering or unsung Pandemic Grief or loss that needs to be given a voice? where would you share that?

• where do you find joy, wonder and awe these days? since i started discussing enchantment, has that lens shifted your perspective on how you approach the world? it is okay if none of this resonates with your right now! if you are in the midst of deep grief, feeling overwhelmed and under a blanket of heaviness is normal and words/feelings like “joy,” “wonder,” and “enchantment,” may feel impossible.

• 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 being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others.

Labyrinth Love

In August I was blessed with sharing the labyrinth in two settings: one more intimate and one for a wider community. As a Certified Veriditas Labyrinth Facilitator with a 22” modified Chartres canvas labyrinth, I was able to bring the labyrinth and my experience with Grief and loss to both these settings, collaborating with the hosts to offer a meaningful experience for participants.

The first workshop was in collaboration with Collective Roots APG, a wonderful organization that “is a family-centered recovery community dedicated to helping families heal from the effects of teen substance use and other high-risk behaviors.” My focus was on parents and supporting their Grief journey, primarily disenfranchised grief, that may not be given voice as their teen’s journey has taken an uncertain path. Through a combination of ritual, poetry, writing portals, and walking the labyrinth, those in attendance had an opportunity to express their Grief. And there was also space offered for hope. It was a tender afternoon.

Mt Hood Hospice in Sandy, Oregon offers an annual Time of Remembering that is open to the community. This year I was asked if I would offer the labyrinth as part of their resources for folks to be present with their memories and losses around the death of dear ones.

My labyrinth is not an “outdoor” labyrinth, per se, but under certain conditions, it can work. In this case, it was under a pavilion. Though of a different nature than the small intimate workshop earlier in the month, the folks that came to walk the labyrinth and that I connected with, shared so tenderly of their person. The organizers and volunteers do a fabulous job setting up this event and is a lovely example of communal grieving.

Hosting an event that includes the labyrinth doesn’t have to focus on Grief. There are other ways of engaging with the labyrinth. If you are curious how my expertise and experience as a workshop facilitator, with or without the labyrinth, may be a fit for your next event, please reach out and let’s chat.

Odd & Ends

• Coffee and Grief Community. Yes, I love this community and so I share what they offer often!

  • Thursday, September 7th at 7pm, PST is Coffee and Grief Community’s monthly Coffee Talk. It is #50! I always give a shout-out for this. Here is the link to register.

  • Coffee and Grief’s co-host Anne Gudger’s fabulous The Fifth Chamber’s book birthday is just around the corner. If you have ever heard her read any of her work, you know how beautiful it will be. If you feel the pull, please pre-order from your favorite indie-bookseller or other bookseller, whatever gets it in your hands.

  • Write Your Grief Out: “Come write with us, September 13th at noon PST! It's our annual free writing session and we'd love to share it with you. It'll give you an up close look at our 30 day Write Your Grief Out group that starts October 1st.
 Bring paper, your laptop, whatever you write with. Bring a friend. Bring your heart.
 Click on the invite!” I’ve heard great things about past “Write Your Grief Out” offerings.

• Update on “The Move.” Ah, this discerning where to settle—whatever that means (I will be moving, just not sure when and where) is a journey I choose to remain curious about even amid my confusion and other emotions that are stirring, as I shared above.

• In previous blogs I have shared my pondering after engaging with the work of Bayo Akomolafe. How it shakes me. Stirs me. Unsettles me. From September-December I will be taking part in the sixth iteration of We Will Dance With Mountains, part of his wider community’s call to revision what the world can look like. This one is titled Vunja! “'Vunja' is a Swahili word used to mark the kind of dance that breaks the ground open.” Participants are from across the globe, as are the teachers. A few I am familiar with. Most are new to me. I expect to be shaken. Unsettled. I will not be the same at the end…not if I engage with my heart.

• In my work, I hold space for those I meet with where they are on their journey. It is an honor. It is sacred. I am beyond grateful for those who trust me and allow me to listen to their stories or bring me into their communities.

  As I continue to linger in my own between space, a changing space, a time of shift, I will continue to be with you and invite anyone else who would like to work with me into a space of deep, respectful listening, because your voice…your song deserve to be heard.

  "Wisdom is what remains when we've come to the end of everything we know” Bayo Akomolafe

Closing Poem

The Facts of Life

(click on the link to hear Pádraig read the poem.)

By Pádraig Ó Tuama

That you were born


and you will die.



That you will sometimes love enough


and sometimes not.



That you will lie if only to yourself.



That you will get tired.



That you will learn most from the situations


you did not choose.



That there will be some things that move you


more than you can say.



That you will live


that you must be loved.



That you will avoid questions most urgently in need of


your attention.



That you began as the fusion of a sperm and an egg


of two people who once were strangers


and may well still be.



That life isn’t fair.


That life is sometimes good


and sometimes even better than good.



That life is often not so good.



That life is real


and if you can survive it, well,


survive it well


with love


and art


and meaning given


where meaning’s scarce.



That you will learn to live with regret.


That you will learn to live with respect.



That the structures that constrict you


may not be permanently constricting.



That you will probably be okay.



That you must accept change


before you die


but you will die anyway.



So you might as well live


and you might as well love.


You might as well love.


You might as well love.