Dreams, Grief, and Finding Meaning

 Eleanor Roosevelt once remarked, "The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." As this year ends, and we prepare for a new year to begin let's ponder a while. What dreams do we have? What hopes do we hold for the future? What came to mind when I asked myself this question, was a poem I first heard when I was a young woman in my Black Poetry class. The poem, "Harlem" by Langston Hughes reads:

What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up

      like a raisin in the sun?

      Or fester like a sore—

      And then run?

      Does it stink like rotten meat?

      Or crust and sugar over—

      like a syrupy sweet?

      Maybe it just sags

      like a heavy load.

      Or does it explode?

The images though harsh, evoke images of waste, rotting, drying out, suppressing. Those words speak to me of letting things go. They draw images of rotting fruit, what once was ripe and ready for picking and eating, now left to rot. Or to hang on the branch until it's ready to fall to the ground. And then we have the last line...evoking the violent eruption of a piece of rotting fruit that bursts its own skin under the heat of the sun? What drew me to this powerful poem as a young woman? The thought that perhaps I would never be able to achieve my goals, live out my dreams, or find my way to the purpose that now drives me?

I doubt that I would have known the answer to that question then, any more than I know the answer now. However, what I do know is that dreams come to us for a reason. The dreams we dream at night knock on our conscious mind to remind us of something we need to pay attention to in our waking lives. The dreams we have to do or be or create, or make or find, come to us from the well within us as well as the pull we feel from the connections we have to the Divine Universal fountain of Truth, what Jung called, the Collective Unconscious. Whatever 'it' is, the dreams we have for ourselves and the ones we hold for those we love, are so much a part of what sparks our creativity, our daily life search for meaning, and the quest we each have as humans to experience ourselves in the fullness of our being.

Some dreams are big dreams, ones that take years to accomplish, achieve, or create. We may long to learn something, to train ourselves or become capable of doing something of service or beauty or kindness for others. As I sit here on this snowy morning, looking out into the garden and yard, the doves flying back and forth in pairs, across the snowy lawn, from the snow-ladden branches of the pines to the back garden of the lady who scatters birdseed for them, I am transfixed by the simple beauty of life as it is in this moment. Living the dream. 

For so many of us, these past few years have been times of great trial and loss. Grief hangs heavy over us all, even if we've not lost anyone. We are more than aware of how our losses travel with us, and may become incorporated in our dreams, our hopes for the future. A future without those who have been present, but are not more near enough to touch. A future which honors those we have loved so well or as well as we were able. A future which gives us each the chances and opportunities that have escaped those who are no more alive. The future which, for a great part, is up to us to create. To weave our grief into our hopes and dreams. To take what we can hold onto from the past that helps us build a new and more promising picture than we might think we can. 

Over the years I have watched as others have experienced great losses, and then have gone on living. The struggles that many have gone through always seem to me like the feats of some of the most courageous people I know. With the weight of the losses strapped to their backs and hearts, they trudged out into life to carry on. To take some time when possible, to rest and weep and sit in the cold numbness of pain, but to then pull themselves to their feet to continue  on. Sudden losses, seem the worst, and leave those left behind, unprepared for the shock. Whether by a sudden death from a surprising burst in the heart or brain, or from a jump off a bridge to the cold, hard, crushing murky waters of a suicide, the losses that happen suddenly, leave us with a gaping hole in our souls. And these losses either take us with them or require a difficult journey to find meaning and purpose in something that seems almost impossible. 

Yet, there are so many among us, who have had the tenacity to go on with living and in so doing, to find new dreams and weave those shocking losses into the meaningful fabric of their own lives. Most often it is done through service to others, sacrifice of time and life to help those who suffer more. Or to throw oneself into ourselves into work, putting more meaning into each new day, because at the back of the mind is the thought that "if only it hadn't..." and that hope in the heart that 'if only I could...'. 

As I look out the window today, I'm reminded of the last times I spoke to, saw, or even thought of those who now I go to in spirit to offer prayers of remorse, gratitude, sorrow, and love. The roses growing beneath the snow in my garden, from one who means so much to me, lost in May. Books, candles, memories of talks over glasses of wine, cups of tea and coffee, missed messages, and dreams of crossing dark rivers. Missing friends who just seemed to disappear, only to discover they had died, and I had not been told. Cut off from those who hold such a special place in my heart and life, but forgotten because the link that connected us was broken by death. 

People offer condolences to we, the living, when we speak of those we have lost to death. It shocks me for who can console us for losing a piece of ourselves, while we still go on living? How do we console and offer sympathy to someone else? I do not know. How can someone offer me condolences, when I'm not the one who is lost. I am the one who remains and must carry on. I still have this one precious life, as Mary Oliver says, to live and to go forward. Not to refuse to bear the  weight of my grief, but to use the burden and heaviness to find a way to break through to the tears and sorrow that release me from the fear that blocks my dreams, that dampens my hope, and that drags me down into despair where I cannot move. 

What condolence I need is what  Viktor Frankl found after a few months after being liberated from the concentration camp where he lost everyone he loved. Where he suffered torture and abuse and where he witnessed, man's inhumanity to his fellow humans. Walking through a field of flowers one day:

“We came to meadows full of flowers. We saw and realized that they were there, but we had no feelings about them. The first spark of joy came when we saw a rooster with a tail of multicolored feathers. But it remained only a spark; we did not yet belonged to this world.”

On yet another day a few months later, he walked through the same field, the flowers in bloom, and that time, he experienced  their beauty. He wrote that he knew in that he knew in that moment, some part of life had flickered back into being within him.

Why I chose to write about grief and life's meaning and dreams today, is because, well because we are all wrapped up in all three. They are part of who we are as a whole society of human beings, and what our individual lives are often consumed by. All too often, we get lost in hopelessness, despair, or whatever weighs us down to where we can't function or dream. And for that reason today, I reach out with some thoughts about what is not easy about life, but what is so necessary. The need to keep awake to our dreams. A need to honor and mourn those we've lost. The need to find meaning and the impetus to keep moving forward, and the passion to fuel our dreams so that we can live our our lives with meaning and purpose...with some focus on soothing the pain of others and encouraging each other to live as fully as is possible. 

I leave you with some final thoughts by Viktor Frankl, author, psychiatrist, neurologist, and founder of Logotheraphy, a third branch of  Viennese psychotherapy. The main premise of logotheraphy is that the main purpose of life is to find meaning, regardless of what our experiences are.

*Written at a time when 'he' meant both he/she, I have taken the liberty of changing his quote to make it easier for some to not be distracted by the antiquated language usage of the pronouns. I hope he will forgive me. 

“When we find that it is our  destiny to suffer, we

will have to accept our suffering as our task; our single

and unique task. we will have to acknowledge the fact

that even in suffering each person is unique and alone in the

universe. No one can relieve us  of our suffering or

suffer in our place. Our unique opportunity lies in the

way in which we bears our burden.”

From: Viktor E. Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

What brings you peace? What dreams do you have? What purpose are you pursuing? As this year ends and a new one begins, you might find the questions that spark your imagination, motivate you to move forward, or invite you to ponder and find your passion for life and for living.

Ahimsa: A practice of doing no harm

 

Ahimsa, the practice of doing no harm, is one of the most important and powerful  spiritual practices there is. In all great world spiritual traditions, there is the command to do no harm, to oneself or to others. When life is going well, it's fairly easy to understand and to practice Ahimsa. It is not always easy to practice though. However when we are in the throes of despair, depression, or simply trying to survive a major crisis, it becomes much more difficult. That is when we most need to incorporate this practice into our daily lives.

What is Ahimsa? Ahimsa is one of the yamas (steps/stages) of the path of yoga. The word, ahimsa, is derived from the Sanskrit word hims which means to strike. Ahimsa means to refrain from striking or harming. The practice itself of course refers to how we treat others and how we use our words, actions, thoughts, and intentions to build up or tear down those with whom we communicate or come into contact with. 

The practice of doing no harm begins, however, with how we treat ourselves, how we talk to ourselves, and how we tell others who we are. Something I find in my spiritual counseling practice is that often when a person is struggling with major life crises, trauma, or transitions, they revert to belittling or debasing themselves. Mentally or verbally programming themselves to fail, they throw up roadblocks in front of the path before them.

Why is Ahimsa important at times when we are at our lowest ebb? Generally, when we are faced with obstacles, conflicts, struggles, or the ongoing result of  the normal but difficult trials of life, we lose confidence. Shame takes over. Fear steps in. A sense of failure rises up from within. Where one day we felt in control and content, we suddenly find ourselves thrown for a loop. If only we could remember that the course of life is generally full of ruts and potholes and unexpected snags. We don't though. We perpetually believe that 'if only' we behave or achieve or turn our backs or otherwise make some decision about a troubling situation, we'll not have to deal with the energy that a relationship, a job, an unwanted condition, or unexpected shock stirs up. Ahimsa, the practice of paying attention to how we are talking to and about ourselves, our situations, and experiences, and the people with whom we are connected, requires that we slow down and reflect. Two things we have a lot of trouble doing in our world. Slowing our pace and reflecting on what we are creating with our words and thoughts are not practices that many of us are used to doing. If our common experience on this planet during the worldwide pandemic has taught us anything, it is how important this practice of doing no harm is to us as individuals, as members of an interlinked society, and as inhabitants on a fragile planet.



Ahimsa is tool that anyone can use. It costs nothing, but some of your attention and time. Most of us are goal/task/time oriented with the priorities of our busy or stressful lives. Others who suffer great trauma are thrown into relying only on those inner resources as they struggle for survival and balance. Ahimsa, the art and act of doing no harm to ourselves and others, is crucial to everyone's well being. Think back to a time, perhaps the most stressful time of your life. One of those big event moments. Perhaps it was an accident, a death, or a situation on a battlefield or an act of violence.  Pick something that you are far enough away from so as to allow some time for healing or adjusting. Remember if you will, how you responded to what was going on around you. What, if any, feelings took over? What was your perception at the time, and then what was your perception of the event after it was over? Spend a little time reflecting on how you made it through that experience and what remains of the energy connections to that time.

You survived. Perhaps you still feel the residual effects of the experience, perhaps you feel it's all in the past. Whatever we experience stays with us in some form, so pretending it didn't happen or doesn't matter is not coping with the situation. At least not in the long run. Our bodies, our minds, and our spirit do numb us out sometimes to help us get through a particularly painful or frightening experience. Other times we become hyper-vigilant, reacting to anything that triggers a painful or frightening reminder. We all have different ways of coping. In the long run however, we are given the opportunity of being reminded of the pain, the experience, and the effects on our lives. We also can use Ahimsa to tune into the pain, fear, anxiety, or despair that may creep into or jolt us awake with its reminder.

How can we learn to use Ahimsa to cope with stress, traumatic scars, unhealed heartache, or other kinds of challenging and hurtful experiences? If you're like me, when something strikes the chord of terror or fear in me, I get busy. I put my energy into doing something. I might stay up all night scrubbing old pots until they are shiny, or throw myself into my work or into helping others with their problems. It works for a while. But then it stops being the panacea, the saving grace that gets me through. There comes a time with chronic stress, unhealed trauma, and intergenerational patterns of pain and negative energy when I need to find a way to start getting to the root of the problems that initiated and perpetuated my current situation. If we are the sum total of all that has happened to us (and that carries through our family line), we can understand how my behavior is linked to something beyond my immediate situation.

Not wanting to dwell and get trapped in past energy means we need to periodically work on becoming more aware, clearer, and healthier in the way we live and respond. Ahimsa begins with turning our attention to our thoughts, feelings, physical responses, and levels and tone of energy. Rather than empyting your mind, listen to what is going on in your mind. What are your thoughts about a difficult or fearful situation? What are you telling yourself? Often it sounds something like, "I can't do....", or "I never get....", or "No one will ever love me...", "That's impossible.."  You have your own script for those times when you feel trapped. And to start with, just notice what comes up in your thinking or how you are talking about a situation or how you're talking to someone. Avoid judging or trying to change anything right away; just notice what you tend to think, do, say, or feel. With Ahimsa, we want to avoid judging or berating ourselves--both forms of self harm. It's not that we are never sorry or feel bad about something. Rather we're looking to face what is authentic in our own patterns, thinking, and process so we can do something to improve it.

Ahimsa is first of all paying attention, noticing, and do so with intention. Many of us process what we've done after the fact. Monday morning quarterbacking? This is a practice to paying attention in motion. Ahimsa then is about determining what about your behavior, your thinking, your feelings, and whatever other messages (the external ones--how others relate to you) are damaging to yourself and to others. Ahimsa is also about how you're viewing the world. A good practice of Ahimsa is to notice your thoughts and words while you're driving...especially when you're in heavy traffic or someone has cut you off or been rude to you. What's your response? Just notice.

Ahimsa is not about beating ourselves up over who we are or what we feel or think, but it is about paying attention and becoming more aware and conscious of how we think, speak, feel affects our  lives. When we revisit the traumatic or powerful event that I asked you to recall earlier, reflect on whether or not something akin to paying attention and listening to that inner voice that helps you in tough times, was present. When we slow ourselves down just a bit, and when we pay closer attention to how and what we're thinking and feeling, we have this wonderful opportunity to remember who we are. We can remember the goodness and positive intentions we have had. We can examine the areas where we've fallen down or missed the point and we can learn to be gentle with ourselves and others. By being clearer and by more attuned to our authentic self, we can learn to heal, rebuild, and learn how to cope more effectively. Ahimsa is a practice that helps us stand with a firm knowledge of who we are, in any situation. And all of us, are survivors.

We have come through some hard times. If we hadn't, we wouldn't be here now. Remember who you are, and treat yourself with kindness. Address the issues in your lives that are making it hard to find balance, harmony, and a sense of worth. Not facing the truth will just make things worse. Stop blaming yourself and others, and use some simple practices, including Ahimsa, to help reshape your life in the form of a Path of Life and Light rather that death and fear.

Particularly for those of you who suffer from the results of war-related and other traumatic events,  Ahimsa can be one tool that helps you cope with some of the recurring patterns and reactions, and learn how to channel your thoughts, feelings, and energy into more healing ways of responding to ongoing stressors. In conjunction with some positive, supportive counseling and relationships,  Ahimsa can help alleviate or temper some of the more emotional and jarring reactions. And it can help you better understand the reasons that the memories are so difficult to simply let go of or stuff down. One thing we have learned about war-related stress (other types of trauma as well) is that trying to stuff it down by not talking about it has adverse effects in the long run. WWII and Vietnam veterans for example, as they aged, have had much more difficulty with suppressed memories and repression and depression. One big reason is the socially accptable behavior of burying feelings, not talking about old war wounds, and the  tamping down of hurtful memories. Ahimsa, with support, can help  you avoid aggravating issues in your life, by giving you a tool, a new habit that helps you deal with trauma bit by bit. For those of you who use prayer, mediation, and other spiritual practices to help deal with the stresses of war, life, and adjusting, this is simply one more tool to help in the healing process.

This week, when you feel yourself getting upset or fearful or uncertain, remember Ahimsa, and give it a try. See if it doesn't help you experience greater inner peace and more acceptance of what you can and cannot do, be, or change. Let yourself do no harm to yourself, and in the process you might also forgive yourself for those failures, shortcomings, or lacks that make you feel less than. You are a full, rich, whole person, and you have the gift of life. Choose to use it for the good of yourself and others. This too is Holy.

How are you practicing ahimsa/doing no harm to yourself, to others, and to the world in which you live today? Take one step to treat yourself just a bit more gently. 

Hiatus: In the Eye of the Storm

According to the Oxford English Dictionary,  "A hiatus is a gap or a pause taken amid a series, sequence, or process." That is what I'm going to call the long silence of this blog, Coasting Along: A Writer's Journey.  Since last posting on this blog, I have been busy living and writing. However, the pace of life coupled with the arrival of the pandemic in early 2020 have made it necessary for me, along with millions of other people worldwide, to reorder their priorities. 

While often a hiatus is planned for in advance, I give you the idea of taking a sabbatical, in my case the gap was not intentional. One of the perils of being a writer is the tendency to stray away from the task at hand because of other events and demands. During the last two years, for that's how long it's been, I was busy finding a new home and moving, learning how to navigate the waters of the pandemic, and spending inordinate amounts of time redoing and reworking different aspects of my life as a writer. For some, the pandemic and its subsequent stay-at-home orders have meant having more time to be more creative. For others, it has meant feeling like we were crawling through hot tar in our underwear. For me, it was the latter. 

Already used to working from home, there was little to get used to. What was most difficult for me was maintaining the energy, focus, and motivation I needed to do as much writing. My focus and attention was instead lazer-focused on what has been going on in our culture and the political environment. How close we came to losing our democracy and system of government. Anything that distracted me from learning all I could and doing what I could to fight for my country, my energy was drained, and my motivation was diminished. As I look back at the two years, I could catalogue the many ways I channeled my time, but that would not accurately capture the meaning of this time as it had a impact on my life as a writer. 

This morning when I woke up in the wee small hours of the morning (a newly acquired pandemic and political disruption habit), I read an article written by a member of the British military. He wrote about the importance of learning to cope with the effects of traumatic events, for him, PTSD as a result of his experiences in war. For me, as has been the case for far too long, the effects of trauma were more akin to those who experience what is called contact trauma. Primary trauma results from direct experience in a traumatic event or series of events. Contact trauma is when you are directly affected by trauma experienced by those with whom you are in close contact. For example, a spouse might experience contact trauma when her/his partner is in a dangerous situation. A husband or wife whose partner is in an active war zone, or a rape victim's partner. 

Overlap between primary and contact stress  often occurs, especially when many people are experiencing an ongoing traumatic event. The pandemic is an example where large numbers of people, in this case, most of the world's population, experience ongoing trauma and a variety of diverse reactions and responses from their experiences.

I wrote this article last year, and never posted it, as my hiatus from writing my blogs  began before I finished this piece. As 2021 has brought much-needed change and some relief with it, I am now tracing my steps to see where I left off with life, including the blogs.  Today I will publish this piece, but it wasn't the only thing I've written nor will it be my last blog post. It will be, I hope, the first of more regular posts that reflect on my writing life. Hope you are finding ways to continue your creative life as well, and I look forward to a new season ahead.

 On this last day of Winter, 2021, I wish you a fruitful year ahead, a healing one, and one which like a seed planted last fall, begins to poke its first shoots through the ground into the light of Spring.