I’m holding space right now for the passing of a friend, several others have died recently, and we are fast approaching the deathiversary of my Brother-In-Law, not to mention that April is a veil month for me. I wrote a post about grief in 2016, and here is a reworking of that.
Endings are as inevitable as beginnings. Change is the only constant. Death is a transition. Energy does not vanish.
Part of the role of Shaman is that of Psychopomp, one who helps people cross over. It’s easier for people who stand with one foot on either side of the veil. It is an important role, midwifing that transition. It is not, however, easy.
I have had a different relationship than my peers with death for as long as I can remember. I don’t fear it, never have. I even advocate people being able to choose the manner and time of their passing. A person can never know the level of suffering of another, and those that throw around the “suicide is selfish” trope are just as guilty of selfishness as those who choose that as a way out.
This does not mean that I don’t grieve. Grief is a natural reaction to endings. We grieve the end of chapters in our lives as well as the end of volumes. Our society is not particularly good at supporting that, so people can get stuck in that space. Every ending is different, so each instance of grief is different. Placing expectations (how long it’s going to last, what it’s going to feel like, the pattern and flavor of it) on grief can get us stuck too.
The way to support grief in others is to hold space. Love them, approach them without judgment, let them feel supported. The way to support grief in yourself is to simply allow for the process and to stay out of self-judgment. Sense a theme?
Anniversary dates will have their own flavor of grief as well. The birthday and deathiversary of those who were close to me tend to bring another layer of the onion, and I have to stay out of the idea that “I should be over this by now.”
Each layer of grief and every anniversary each year has its own flavor. I used to walk the labyrinth in Malibu on Tuesdays, because I had space and opportunity to do so; I currently do a formal labyrinth walk on the first Friday of the month, I will be doing one on Good Friday, and I will probably do one when my friend passes. It’s often how I process heavy things like grief. A Labyrinth walk has 3 phases to it – releasing, contemplation, and receiving.
On 4/12/16, my releasing mantra on the way in was simple: “I release all my anger, all my grief, all my attachments.” Interestingly, the church that hosted the labyrinth I was walking put their cross from Holy Week at the center, and the energy was quite different than usual. In contemplation, the question arose, “If you let go of the grief, how do you honor those who have gone before, without wallowing in the loss?” The answer is simple: do something in their memory. How would they want to be remembered? What is the highest expression of the energy of their life? The path out of the labyrinth was just icing today – I got clear images for some of the prayer flags I have not yet made.
Tell me how you honor your dead. Tell me what the highest expression of the energy of their life is. Tell me what you think they would have you do in their memory.