“Start where I am…”
I always tell myself this when I sit down to write. It’s the only place which is true for me right now, the only way to speak from my heart and the only way I will touch other hearts. To write from anywhere else is to write from memories or projections, but now, in this moment, which in truth is all I have, what do I know? Today, what I know is what follows below and is in part a reflection on an article a friend sent me, written by Stephen Harrod Buhner while he was dying.*
Love Matters Most
I know love matters most, that it doesn’t die even if the recipient of my love does. And probably, that keeping on loving saves my life too.
I know there isn’t a limited supply of love in my heart – and therefore in every heart – but that it is an ever flowing fountain. A mother who has a second child doesn’t divide her love in two between her children, but rather finds it multiplying.
I know that without love there is no joy in the depth of red in the big begonia in my garden; no wonder in the grandfather beech tree which stands as a testament to the engineering miracles of nature; no gratitude for the patient, enduring, dancing river. Pleasure perhaps, in seeing things on the surface like a tourist, but not the deeper appreciation, wonder and love for my home.
Grief can feel like…
When a beloved one dies, we can feel desolate, cold bereft, abandoned, unloved. We can feel guilty, angry, responsible, unforgiven, unlovable. We can feel bewildered, confused, helpless, hopeless and that love is a thing of the past.
We may want solitude and inwardly berate our friends for not being there for us. We may want to weep and find ourselves as dry as a stone. We may want to be held and feel dissatisfied with any hug because it is not the hug of our beloved one.
We are in a place that has lost its ground and its parameters. We don’t know who we are or why we’re still here. We’ve lost purpose, meaning and anchorage. All we have is feeding the dog/cat/budgie – and ourselves if we remember.
Grief should not leave us untouched
Grief should not leave us untouched, unchanged. It is, and I use the word carefully, a sacred path, because it invites us into the depths of ourselves, beyond cognitive function (which doesn’t work terribly well in the midst of deep grief anyway) and into a more authentic, heart-orientated knowing. This is what I meant in my last blog when I spoke about the possibility of an alchemical transformation.
Vulnerable as I still am (maybe always will be, maybe always should be) I can tell you, I am more in my own skin than I have ever been; more grounded and anchored in my own knowing; and more caring towards myself through self-respectful boundaries (still more consciousness to bring to this one!) than ever. I’m also more insightful, more honest and more compassionate – and sometimes less so! Why? Because I seem to have less tolerance for game playing, inauthenticity and especially unkindness.
Do I trust the future, the time I have to come, my plans? No, I do not. I know the whole lot can go up in smoke – again. If I could, would I have myself back as I was? No, I would not. And I wish my beloveds could see me now and be proud of me. What has got me through thus far and enabled me to endure and survive and begin to thrive? Love. The love of others for me for sure. But crucially, I could not dishonour the love I had been given and found within, by closing down my poor, sore, raw heart. I had to allow it to open and keep loving – those who had gone, those who are still here and the deep red begonia.
With love to you,
Nickie
PS Everything I have written can equally well apply to the grief many of us feel at the exploitation, desecration and destruction of our home, this beautiful earth. My path isn’t that of an environmental activist; mine is to champion heartfulness, the necessity of including and respecting the heart’s wisdom in our decision making and integrating it into every aspect of our lives. And particularly for me, to bring our love, wisdom and compassion to who and what is dying and grieving.
Thank you for reading.
*If you know Stephen Harrod Buhner and/or are interested in his article, please let me know and I will forward it to you. He was a medical herbalist, teacher, environmentalist and deeply compassionate and articulate man.
News
Just over a month to go until Emma and I begin our series of walks, creative activities and sharing, for those dealing with loss of any sort. We feel deeply committed to providing a safe space in healing nature, in order to tend to grief and hurt.
We have a growing group already but there is room for a few more. If you know of anybody in the South Hams who might be interested, please do share this link – www.nickieaven.com/events/ – or they can write to me on [email protected] for more information.
With the generous help of local councils we can offer all six walks for a total of £35 (plus I’ll make cookies!)
Nikki…it has taken a few days for me to allow myself time to sit with you. To digest your wisdom your love, that pours through your words. I feel & see brilliant pulsating light a warm seeping through the fissures of your wounds. I so resonate with this.
Life deals out many blows to the innocent light being that is born into this word. I collected all of them and walked under a heavy burden & became brittle & worn. My heart became cracked, then broken & I longed to find that innocent light being, but it seemed to me that my life path was determined to extinguish me!…everything!…..all of me…ground down, snuffed out!…
Then I had a dream in which I woke with the word TRUST!……so strongly embedded I couldn’t ignore it…..so I began to…….
From then on I learned to TRUST! ……, trust in “The Divine”, Trust in my inner knowing.
My heart is still cracking open, the light is pouring through, from a little seeping to begin with , to now a steadily stream, I welcome this & look forward to the day when that illumination fills the whole of me & I become a being of light once more.
Love & Sunshine
Sharon
Thank you, Sharon. I too remember the innocent one I was and how battered she became. And yes, she hasn’t disappeared, she’s still here with me, helping me love, trust myself and keep going. Thank you for taking the trouble to write, it heartens me no end to hear that I am touching others. xxxxx