"...in the midst of death, there is life in learning." -- Parker Palmer

One of the hardest things for me to do is sit with the pain of loss. I want to fix it right now so that the pain will go away. I am not talking about a loss through the actual death of a loved one as much as I am referring to the losses we experience just as a normal part of living: children growing up, friendships changing, job loss or change, our favorite hairdresser moving out of town, the grocery store we’ve always shopped at being sold to a large nation- wide chain, the worship liturgy at church changing, losing our grandfather’s watch….you get the picture. Not earth shattering things….just normal every day losses that add up and need to be grieved- even if they are called insignificant. I have a sneaking suspicion that one reason the big things knock us off our rocker in such a devastating way is that we never learned how to grieve the small stuff. Instead we pile it up like old tree limbs. Then when a fire does come, not only do the trees still standing burn, but all of the old dried dead wood laying around adds fuel to the fire and it burns hotter and more ferocious than it would have if the dead limbs had been cleared away.

 I was raised in a family where dealing with feelings was not encouraged and especially not feelings most think of as negative.    "Get over it."    I can’t fault my parents completely for this ethic because they were raised in the same kind of family. As the country songs goes, “the roots of my raisin’ run deep.” I come from a long line of denial. I have tried many things to dull the pain of loss. One doesn’t have to look far in our society to see examples of the ways humans try to escape pain; drug and alcohol abuse, violence, over eating, compulsive exercise, work, and recreation, filling one’s life up with “things”….the list goes on and on.

We are not a society that endures discomfort well. It has taken me many years to learn how to just be in pain without trying to make it go away and I can’t say that I do it well most of the time but there are moments when I succeed just a little. These small moments of success give me hope that, with practice and patience, I can learn how to grieve the losses that accompany day to day living in such a way that these events become the rich tapestry of a healthy life instead of the landscape of a ravaged forest.

One thing that does help me is to read the words of others who have navigated this journey successfully.  I have borrowed inspiring words from one of my favorites and include them below in the hope that if you are in need of comfort, you will be fed by them as I have been. Peace Be With You.

From Parker Palmer:

‘Well, at some point in that journey with depression, I was given by a friend some words from that extraordinary novel by T.H. White, The Once and Future King. This is a passage in which the young Arthur, king to be, in his depression, his dark night of the soul, has sought counsel from Merlin, the magician, who was his mentor… these wonderful words created a spark of light for me in the midst of that death-dealing episode of my life. Speaking to the young Arthur, Merlin says,

“The best thing for being sad is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies. You may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins. You may miss your only love. You may see the world around you devastated by evil lunatics or know your honor trampled in the sewers of baser minds.

There is only one thing for it, then: To learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the thing for you.”

"Learning is the thing for you." I read those words, and I began to understand that in the midst of death, there is life in learning. I could not do much in the darkness of my depression. I couldn't work. I couldn't connect with other people. But I could start to learn what was in there. I could grope around in the darkness and learn what and who was there. And, of course, those of you who have been on that journey know that part of what I found and learned about there was what Thomas Merton calls true self.”