This is an overly ambitious essay. I’m attempting to answer questions that have stumped philosophers and mystics forever– and inspired writers for so long that I’m probably going to recycle a lot more ideas than the one from the first part of this sentence 🙂
I’m focusing here on the nature of grief. I’ve gained insight into this topic from my experience, naturally; I’ve also found value in what others have to say about it. Generally, I divide those responses into three broad categories:
1) Frank, matter of fact descriptions, often using examples of real life situations (the death of a family member, say) to explain how grief functions abstractly. This is a broad category. I include everything from Freud or a modern practitioner of cognitive behavioral therapy, to spiritual teachers and gurus like Ram Das or L. Ron Hubbard. Generally, people employing this approach are trying to both explain how grief works, but also to provide some sort of guidance for living life. Both the understandings and the advice are incredibly variable offerings. I don’t think I’m going out on a limb to offer my own: proceed with caution. But I encourage you to proceed, just the same.
2) Poetic, artistic responses to grief. This I think requires less explanation. Certainly I’ve contributed my own share of these to the human pantheon, whether it be wailing alone at midnight out in the cold, or composing poetry from the comfort of the same chair I sit in right now. A stray thought wanders by; I’ll invite it to stay a moment in return for sharing itself with you. It wants you to hear it, give it your attention and consideration. That’s all. Personally, I’m hopeful that my expression can help you, and yours me. Whether it has, or ever will, remains a mystery in my eyes.
3) And finally the relational approach. Including this as a separate category is a bit of a cheat, perhaps. I think it’s necessary, though.
Clearly a “mind-based” approach of carefully chosen words and advice is almost universally based on the assumption that others can take what we say at face value and learn from it. More concretely, the underlying belief functioning is that teaching people how to deal with life is more or less like giving directions: turn left at the big rock, go 100 steps, it’s behind the small willow tree.
At the same time, with a “heart-based” approach the assumption seems to be that we can communicate with each other without any common language other than our humanity. The apparently functioning underlying belief is that the artist simply seeks to achieve genuine self-expression; the audience seeks to understand that expression in it’s own way. Born from common ground, we breathe the same air all our lives; some of us are astronauts, too.
My point here, and I suppose always, is that it’s humanly impossible to separate east/west, mind/heart, me/you. That last one is pretty controversial.
Oh yeah, grief. I’ve been meaning to come back to that for a while, and honestly I’m not sure I’ve got it in me to finish the job I started at the beginning of this here essay. Of course I’m going to try.
I’ve heard from many places, and found it very useful conceptually, to think of grief as “held in the body.” This idea helps me make sense of many disparate experiences. It helps me see patterns of behavior in myself and others, and to understand how to change them. More concretely, keeping with the metaphor, depression seems to indicate a need to release grief. So does irritability, or things not going my way, having a bad day, many other signs. The behaviors that can help release grief are many and varied– separating myself from the situation, going for a walk, singing, taking a break. And then, eventually, I cry and feel better. I return refreshed and sometimes am able to approach life in a new way afterward. Sometimes, I just feel better. But that ain’t bad!
Now, riffing on that theme, it seems to me that changes both within people as well as in relationships between people tend to follow something of a formula. Basically, it’s introduction/connection mixed liberally with challenge/conflict followed shortly by separation/distance and then graciously on to reunion/transformation/renewal (yes the really good stuff gets three words instead of just two!) This operates on a large scale down to a small scale. Relationships between parents and children are pretty grand stuff. Losing a sweatshirt, probably not as important. I still remember an old grey hoodie quite fondly; losing it was truly sad, and the picture I drew to honor it really helped me move on. I have a new grey hoodie now. It’s not as good. I love it too.
Anyway, I’m quite proud of those last two paragraphs, and I hope you like them. It really is time for us to part though. Time to eat, give my fingers a rest. And well, listen to a little more of this kick-ass Judas Priest record first. Hell yeah!
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