On Loss

For most of the summer I attempted to live in a bubble of only ever good news. In order to do this, I ruthlessly ignored NPR and the random news updates that even take over email checking these days. With the shooting in Aurora, that tenuous bubble was shattered. With the return to work in a field where almost every story is a tragedy, the bubble has subsided into nothingness.

My heart is heavy again. I desperately want someone to relieve the ache in my heart. Because even more than the work stories, my friends are dealing with the kinds of losses that tear and break at the very core of their beings. And, though my walls at work have grown a bit through self care strategies, when it comes to my friends those walls may as well be paper thin. 

So friends, since writing is the only real way I know to release pain. I am writing now. To my dear ones who are going through such heart rending times, I know there are no perfect words. Loss of love, loss of life never fully heals in this lifetime. I believe that is for a reason. If we can know loss truly, then that means we have also known love truly. If we can live in the depths of agonizing loss, we can live at the heights of great joy as well. 

I often tell my students that we have two choices when something horrible happens. We can allow pain and tragedy to harden our hearts. To close us up in a way that shrivels our kindness and saps our joy. This is safer in some ways. The ability to feel lessens. The heart is protected in a cell of darkness and fear. No one can touch it ever again. This is so appealing. Especially in the early moments of loss. Because the alternative to pain, the not feeling, seems like the only way to carry on. I think our bodies understand that. I think that's why we go into shock at times. Our very own anesthesia. And in the beginning, sometimes that really is the only way to continue with our days. But to choose to live that out every day and to never allow true joy into our hearts again, that is a tragedy even greater than the losses experienced here and now. 

The depth of our pain proves the depths of our love. So to the second option then. The second choice is to live with more love and more passion. This choice involves allowing our hearts to grow bigger from our pain. Like our hearts get stitched up at the place where they were broken and swollen. In this way our hearts expand. We grow in our capacity to care for the people around us. We grow in our kindness, in our generosity towards ourselves and others. This is by far the more challenging choice. It involves openness, and truly working through all of the complicated and deeply excruciating feelings of loss. Doing the work is like walking through a desert at times. But then healing enough to love again is like finding that spring, that giant swimming hole hidden in a cave. 

I have no words for loss. Because it is too real to be trivialized. So friends, I bless you with the courage to continue living passionate lives even though the cost is so high. I bless you with peace in your dark days and pray you can feel it even for a moment. You are so loved friends, from one broken heart to another.