Dear Diary, Of Grief and Attachment
What do we do with grief once we’ve processed the boots-on-the-ground reality? When we’ve come to terms with what we’ve lost, what isn’t coming back, what do we do with that information? Grief is complicated from the standpoint of Mindfulness and Meditation, as an aspect of grief is anguish. One can be *very* present with their pain, and when trying to figure out what to do about pain here and now, grief can morph in the process of seeking an outlet – something I’ve recently connected the dots with all too well.
The Mindfulness portion of Mindfulness and Meditation becomes essential here. While we are in the present with our pain, trying to manage it, or at worst trying to keep the worst of it to ourselves, we may have become *too* good at being judgment-free in an almost ironic way. I’m going to quote myself from November 2019:
“why do we hold on to this pain
what else do we need to learn
it is ok to let yesterday be yesterday
have healing be today
and health be tomorrow” (Alone Series 561 | Learn)
The sorrowful aspect of grief is natural; we feel hurt by the loss of something important, whether it is a person, a memory, an opportunity, or something else of value. However, when sorrow turns to anguish, it is ok to ask ourselves what value that pain adds. Perhaps, at first, the pain serves as a fuel to seek a viable alternative, to pursue some form of adequate justice, to accomplish or complete something ourselves, or, in my case, to try to protect others from harm. Pain, though, is like a labyrinth; it is frustrating with no clear end in sight, and at some point, it is ok to ask ourselves why are we trying to navigate this at all.
I recently wrote attachment to the past can merely consume capacity in the present. Grief is one such manner in which we remain attached to the past, and while there is no one-size-fits-all method of honoring the memory or value we mourn while not anguishing over it any longer, such a time comes for us all. For some, it may involve forgetting (even if involuntary) and moving on entirely, while for others, it may be akin to framing a portrait on the wall – visible but archived. For some, it may be more like a worry stone, something to touch and put away; for others, it may be a star in the night sky – a symbolic gesture that the best parts of the memories may still offer guidance or hope.
Whatever our level of attachment is, when grief transitions from sorrow to anguish and (mostly) stays there, it is ok to apply some self-judgment, to ask some questions why we suffer so. For me, looking at the things I anguish over, so few of them are actually my fault. Even one of the big sticking points for me, my role overseas, I think I can be more compassionate toward. I’ve long held a view I was a coward and others suffered for it; I didn’t have the moral fortitude to stand up to the system, cease participating, and accept the consequences. However, I was very young, and the preceding situation when I did try to stand up for myself was met with strong resistance and turmoil. I had not developed a strong individual identity until much later. It was immediately *after* some of those catastrophic overseas events I went on learning journeys, which helped me get to where I am now. Just as I couldn’t save others I wanted to, it wasn’t my fault; many of the decisions made were not mine to make.
The process of sorrow, acceptance, and release is essential to learn. For me, I’ve been on my own so much I’m just used to being responsible for everything. Perhaps I took on too many responsibilities too young, and I kept adding more, because that is the reward for doing good work, after all – more work. Whatever the case may be, I think it’s time for me to have fewer. I think it’s time to put some portraits on the wall.
Grief comes for us all, but we do not have to dwell lost in the labyrinth forever. Ask yourself why you suffer, and if you find the pain does not contribute in any meaningful way, seek a means to honor and let go. You are worth it.
reBLUEvinate!