“Practicing mindfulness, we start to become more aware of our pain; however, we may not yet be strong enough to transform it. To have the strength to fully face and embrace our pain, it is important that we stay in touch with the many wonderful and refreshing things that are both inside us and all around us – the trees, the blue sky, the eyes of a child, the setting sun. We need to have a strong foundation in order to be strong enough to bear our suffering. When we are calm and stable, when we have cultivated enough peace and joy, then we can bear to look at our suffering. Just as a surgeon may judge a patient too weak to undergo surgery and recommend that the patient first get some rest and nourishment to build up their strength so they can survive the surgery, we need to strengthen our foundation of joy and happiness before focusing on our suffering.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh
More words of wisdom in dealing with loss, and perhaps not as helpful for someone who’s new to the meditation process; I lucked out in that I’ve been building precisely this sort of foundation for the past several years – it’s difficult to imagine how I would begin such an enterprise after a major loss. Back in July, on a trip to New York that now feels worlds away, Chris and I were matter-of-factly discussing how I was preparing for Dad’s death – something that at the time I had only started to even be able to put into words. I had explained my gratitude that meditation had become a daily, and integral, part of my life, and that it formed a calmer base that allowed for more difficult moments to come and go without drastic destruction. Indicating that I hoped to use that space and time to be able to deal with the impending loss, I didn’t realize the true test was so close.
Happily, I’ve been able to continue my daily meditation practice, and in those moments I find the peace and calm that somehow still allows for acknowledgment of pain and loss while transforming it into something bearable. Whether I feel it or not, on some level I am aware that I am doing ok, and maybe a little bit better than I thought I’d be. Still, grief is a tricky thing, and it sneaks in at the most unexpected and often-inopportune moments. It can immediately mar what was otherwise a pleasant stroll at lunch, or strike in the instant that a friend is showing kindness. A simple tap at the heart suddenly has the potential to open a floodgate of tears. In that sense, things are still very raw and tender. Healing will be a long process, but at least we’ve begun.
