Spring—it has arrived early in the Pacific NW, at least where I live. Or maybe it is because I walk Joey the Pug twice a day I have time to “micro notice” the subtle changes of the season. And my noticing changes depending on weather, Sun and Moon’s position in the Sky, time of day, what I’ve been reading/watching/listening to, my body’s strength (or aches,) Joey and my pace, etc. Slowing down though, has been essential.

Daffodils began blooming in early February. In my likely faulty recollection is it is usually March before they truly bedazzle gardens and roadsides. Winter birds songs have shifted from rehearsal to full-on symphony mode. The House Finches are back flitting from the barely budding Dogwood to the birdbath on my deck and I am guessing nest building is well underway in anticipation of mating season.

On our morning walk the other day the Merlin’s Bird ID app recorded eight different birds: Lesser Goldfinch, Black-Capped Chickadee, Canada Goose, Bushtit, American Robin, Song Sparrow, American Crow, Spotted Towhee. It was a raucous serenade on an otherwise quiet Sunday. It was lovely, but it feels so…early.

COVID’s 6th Anniversary

Six years ago I had the unexpected “opportunity” to daily notice the shift in seasons due to the pandemic. Yup, six years ago this month. Those walks were balms. Connecting with Trees, Birds, Land where I lived at the time. Watching as Beings not effected by COVID thrived even as we were sorting through global shifts. Those were difficult times. Perhaps take a moment now to check in with yourself and see if anything is stirring. Who and or what did you lose during the pandemic? Take some deep breaths and pause. Slow down. When you are ready, continue.

Winter Merging Into Spring

When I last wrote it was mid-November. Winter solstice was four weeks away. Now Spring equinox is two. The dark of Winter is fading and my flashlight and reflective vest come out less and less on my walks. As much as I love Winter—being held in the closeness of the dark, less activity, the coziness—I have to admit that now I walk Joey twice a day, plus additional potty and “play ball” outings, the extended light of Spring, the warming days (less layers) has garnered a revived enthusiasm for the season. Sure, we aren’t done with rain and cold. At least I hope we aren’t! Our early Spring has been preceded by spurts of long dry periods followed by torrents of Rain…but little Snow on the Mountains. Snow pack inadequate to quench our requirements for Water to grow crops, satisfy Fish runs, or quell a Wildfire season should it be a dry dry Summer. March and early April can bring an abundance of Snow to the Mountains. I am not alone in advocating for a wet, cool Spring if the Mountains are lavished with layers of Snow.

Water—Another Mentor

In early December I took my annual retreat to the North Oregon Coast. Already I am longing to return. I wrote about that time on my Substack post, retreating into the storm, so won’t reiterate my pondering here, except to say as I age my connection to Water deepens. As I slow down my life, I look to Water to teach me (another mentor.) Water’s flow, forms, non-linearity, connections, usurping boundaries (despite our human efforts), and essentialness to this Planet asks me to continually pause. To pay attention. One book that has influenced my engagement with Water is Theory of Water, Nishnaabe Maps to the Times Ahead, by Leanne Betasamosake Simpson.

There are so many passages in her book I could cite, that I found myself immersed in, but let me offer this from her chapter, Being a River:

Nibi [Water] decanters itself: it leaks, moves, flows, reconnects, not a real estate or enclosure or property, but as a living network, linking endless forms of life working with each other to bring about more life, more diversity of life, more abundance of life. Water is a matrix of bonds and attachments amongst living things of all kinds, a cascade of living beings across time and space, on a cosmic scale, extending into ancient times and into the future. Water is a set of practices that socially, intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, and physically reproduce the planet. Practices that are deeply relational and reciprocal. Practices that embody ethics privileging kindness and gentleness, creating architectures of care across time, space and species. (pgs 155-6)

Learning From Others to Expand my World View

I grieve the lack of humility of those in power. I grieve the lack of empathy and kindness and care for other Beings, as well as humans, of those who, by virtue of vast financial resources (which face it in our western culture are “power coupons,”) seem more focused on obtaining “more.” General statements, I know. There are exceptions. But my hope is not in those exceptions. It is in my neighbors…both human and non-human Beings that navigate these days with kindness, curiosity, and perhaps, intuitively, the way of Water. That I can become more “deeply relational and reciprocal.” I look to my mentors: Water, Grief, and Slowness to teach me.

I am also slow reading Undrowned, Black Feminist Lessons from Marine Mammals, by Alexis Pauline Gumbs. Reflections on breathing/another way to breathe are written as meditations focusing on Marine Mammals (and some Sharks.) What I am taking away from her and other Black thinkers is how Oceans (especially the Atlantic concerning the middle passage) and their inhabitants, have much to teach us on surviving in extractive cultures. Gumbs connects larger experiences with the stories of Dolphins, Whales, etc as they support each other in pods, care for their young, survival in captivity. It is expanding my understanding and breaking down my assumptions. Leaving me thirsty to grow and read more from other view points.

Grief: Can We Imagine New Ways?

What else am I grieving these days? Sometimes it circles around the difficulty to have these conversations…even within my own self! I am full of inner conflicts. How do we listen deeply to each other…not to get to the point of agreement (we will never agree on everything) or even to move toward some “middle ground” where we can feel some begrudging comfort. Instead I say collapse that arrowed line with a “middle.” Allow something newly imagined to emerge. AND, it takes so much energy. It is exhausting. I am exhausted. Are you?

My walks with Joey…they feel grounding even on the squishiest, muddiest days. So “ordinary” (which I touched on in my last Substack post.) Perhaps that is part of my self care. Remaining in touch with Trees and Birds and this season of revitalized greens that is now erupting with the spinning, springing Earth in the Northern Hemisphere. That reminder that even as humans are expanding/collapsing (or maybe not depending on your thoughts/beliefs), other Beings on this Planet have their own wisdom, their own patterns, their own rhythm. When I notice that, I find solace.

For Your Reflection

• as the six year anniversary of the start of the pandemic arrives, what is stirring in you? how would you like to honor that? consider how you were personally impacted—maybe the death of a loved one, long-COVID illness, loss of employment, other impacts. how has your Grief shifted over the years? other thoughts on the pandemic and how it changed your life?

• there is so much unfolding (perhaps too mild of a word) in the world these days? how do you care for yourself as you care for others? for your community?

• what is stirring curiosity in you these days? how does that encourage you to step out of your “comfort zone?”

• who or what do you consider your mentors? what do you look for in mentors?

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others?

Recommendations

Movies

I saw Hamnet and yes I cried. and yes, I loved it. The heart of it. The Grief of it. The director, Chloé Zhao, was asked in interviews if a mother (and father) would have grieved the death of her son as it was depicted in the movie given that so many children died during the plague. She talked about Grief being age old and universal. After my experience in Scotland last year and visiting a museum with ancient homo sapien burial remains that reflected “ritual” and what appears to be an honoring of death in community, I’m with Chloé. She is also training to be a death doula. A fascinating person. I recommend finding one of the many interviews she has offered.

Podcasts

First a note about my love (uh maybe obsession) with Grief podcasts. I am drawn to these because I find they open me to many Grief experiences. So many stories. The myriad ways of coping. Sure, I have my own experiences (personal and professional) and as i come alongside folks in my practice I want to always be curious about each person’s experience. Let go of any judgments that might creep in. I don’t have answers. I do hope I always have a heart ready to listen, not to solve, but as witness.

One of my favorite Grief podcasts is Anderson Cooper’s All There Is. (Okay, I mentioned this last time, but it is worth repeating.) Every two weeks he releases a new episode and is currently in season three. What I appreciate about his podcast is his “I’m someone who didn’t grieve the death of my father and brother until a few years ago and now I am.” He is honest about how “not grieving” shaped his life, is still learning how to be with his Grief, and is curious about how his guests navigate Grief. He never claims to be an expert.

I mentioned the death of poet Andrea Gibson in my previous newsletter and how their partner, Megan Falley, has been writing so tenderly about her journey into widowhood on the Things That Don’t Suck Substack, Anderson’s interview with her, “Dying is the Opposite of Leaving: Remembering Andrea Gibson,” is full of tender remembrances and sharing Megan’s thoughts on grieving.

The another podcast I often mention is You’re Going to Die: The Podcast. The episode I recommend this time around is with the poet and expansive hearted human Rosemary Wahtola Trommer. The One Life We Can Save, delves into the suicide of her son Finn and death of her father not long after. She weaves her poems into the discussion. Whether or not you’ve experienced the death of someone by suicide in your life, I recommend listening. Navigating those Waters as a friend can leave one feeling mystified as how to come alongside. Rosemary’s deep insights may offer some guidance.

And finally, I have to give another shout out to the Coffee, Grief and Gratitude podcast. This podcast arose from the monthly Zoom Coffee Talks that were spawned in the wake of COVID shutdowns. Writer Anne Gudger and her daughter Maria Gibson saw a need for folks to share their Grief stories. The Zoom talks are once a month where five readers share a written piece…a wide assortment of experiences of Loss and Grief. I always say it is my monthly dose of heart balm.

Originally the Zoom meetings were not shared via a podcast, but Anne and Maria saw the gift of the stories plus an opportunity to interview writers and folks with experiences to share with others around their work with Grief and Loss to a wider audience. Coffee, Grief, and Gratitude was launched. Now the monthly Zoom meetings are shared as well as an array of interesting interviews. If you are looking for a place to start, I recommend February’s Coffee Talk,: A Special Reading with the Queer Love Project. And yes, way back in the beginning I was interviewed.

PS: Anne’s book, The Fifth Chamber, is a tender memoir of loss I recommend. And not because she is my friend, but because it is a narrative woven with lyrical language by someone who loves words and is, like Anne, a treasure.

Offering: My Passion and Heart

Spiritual Direction/Companionship

Spiritual Companionship is the heart of my practice. I offer the gift of coming alongside and providing deep listening. This allows one to hear their own wisdom. Their own stories. To connect with their Source as they define and have experienced Mystery in their lives. To hold space to reflect on beliefs with curiosity without judgment. To be in the midst of their Grief & Loss and have someone simply be with them, taking time, all the time needed/desired to allow the journey to unfold. To celebrate joys. And more.

I meet with folks from diverse beliefs and spiritual backgrounds and practices. Different ages and genders. All are welcome. Yes, my writing reflects my unfolding curiosities and path. So yes, I am on my own journey, but I have a director that I sort through my “stuff” with, so I won’t be trying to nudge you over to my ways of thinking.

To find out more about my philosophy, background, training and “tools” that we can use in a session, check out my website. I follow the ethics of Spiritual Directors International., where I am a member.

I have space available. I meet with folks in-person or via Zoom. Please reach out if you have questions about how a session might unfold.

I always appreciate referrals!

Final Thoughts

Grieving: Loss Anniversaries

Winter is heavy with death and loss anniversaries in my world. In January it was the 40th anniversary of my father's death. Forty years. That number buzzed around me all year and I found myself missing him, looking for him more than I have in a long time. Sorting through photos. Peering for him to appear in the “thin places.” Having a deep longing to connect.

In February is was the 8th anniversary of my mother’s death. December was nine years for my beloved first pug, Hugo. It has also been a decade since my divorce—another kind of loss. Losses that ask me to slow down and notice. Appreciate.

A Beginning: Has It Really Been 10 Years?

A decade ago I started writing blogs (May 2016!) on this website with 2015 being the official “birth” of Nurture Your Journey. I looked at those first couple of blogs. Short and sweet. No headers. One photo. My blogging has evolved, grown, as I believe I have. I have expanded in my understanding of Grief and Loss—personally and professionally. I hope I have also honed my writing style. Become braver in sharing my heart.

As I mentioned in my last post, I can feel a shifting and you may even have sensed it too over the last year. More philosophical alongside Grief education alongside personal reflection. I am sixty-six and a half (ha, remember when you were a kid and the “half” was important!) What I designed and desired to offer a decade ago; what lit a fire in me has shifted. What I called my “yeses” and “noes” in the last post. (And yes, I still need to update my website.) The plan is to pare down my offerings to spiritual direction/companionship; blessings, rituals & ceremonies; and offering my labyrinth for rental and maybe some labyrinth facilitation.

Ah, Poetry’s Invitation

My writing, especially poetry, had been languishing. This year I signed up for The Stafford Challenge and have been writing a poem a day (as inspired by the writing practice of William Stafford.) The invitation is to do this from Jan 17, 2026-Jan 16, 2027. Yup, 365 poems (fortunately no one says they have to be “good” poems.) I joined a small group too, for support. So far I am enjoying getting back in the groove and writing more.

And though I don’t write on my Substack , following dandelion seeds, as much as I had intended, well, that seems to be the place I integrate much of what I’m reading/watching/pondering these days. You can subscribe for free, if you are curious.

Letting Go

So this year is about letting go of the more expansive parts of Nurture Your Journey. Slowness, my mentor, is showing me how. For now, I plan to still write these often belated quarterly newsletters and share Grief related information and education.

As Winter leans into Spring, I will relish the Daffodils as they bloom on their schedule. Will don my rain gear on showery days, walk Joey, and appreciate each lilt of Spring’s Bird symphony. For if there is anything the pandemic taught and this current topsy-turvy world teaches me, taking time to notice my place in the world and how I am woven in is a daily invitation. Allowing myself to be in sync with the rhythm of Water and Beings that entangle me in my responsibility.

in gratitude for you, whether this is your first time or you have been here through the years,

anne

PS: One Poem To Share From My “Challenge.”

I subscribe to The Pause, Krista Tippett’s (On Being) Substack. The title touched me (as well as the whole post) and it became a portal for this poem.

nourishment for sore hearts: a blessing

“My heart is sore. Your heart is sore.” Krista Tippett, 1/31/26 The Pause Substack

may our heart-bruises be tended as if discovering an abandoned kitten.

may we bask in sun breaks on rain-soaked days, allowing warmth to lighten our despair.

in our sleep, may we be held in snug protection by an embroidered blanket of stars. may our deep slumber dreams be entanglements of curiosity leading us toward wonder, not fear.

on days we feel alone, isolated, so mired in the muck of it all, may we, in the yawn of first morning, listen for robin’s third, fourth, fifth note. let those notes be our first news of the day.

when we encounter the lonely, the hurt, the angry, may we sing those notes back filling the air, soothing unspoken pain.

may we wrap aloe vera leaves around the sore hearts of our neighbors…and our own. a balm to keep our hearts soft and open to forgiveness.

may we not be afraid to grasp the thorny rose. let drops of our blood nourish the soil with stories brewed over the fire of myth for future generations. may those future generations understand myths shapeshift.

when we are famished for kindness, may a platter of care appear in a meal, smile, hand to hold, ear to listen, shelter, bills paid, knit hats, candle lit in remembrance, a song.

may our hearts beat not to bruise another, but to dance with quantum possibilities..

anne richardson 2/11/26

Hello Dear Ones,

It is deep Autumn in the Pacific Northwest. My intention was to write this newsletter soon after the equinox passed, but enamored with cooler and shorting days, Leaves riotous shift in color schemes, Rain’s thunderous return and my own deepening “apprenticeship with slowness,” one week fell into another and, well, here we are.

My body exhaled when Summer finally left the scene (though there was a pale pink Rose in the neighborhood that was still offering spicy, peppery scents until it was cut back to my astonishment just a few days ago. After all, I wasn’t done with my daily “sniffs.”) Summer was difficult for me. I wrote about my malaise on Substack: “merging with the deepening of autumn.” These days Sun skims morosely along the Tree line as if annoyed at not being the star of the show. On cloudless days, Sun glares through windshields and shows all the dirty streaks on kitchen windows, a reminder of its brilliance. And I appreciate its gentle warming of my abode. No need to turn on the heat some days. We call a truce.

Moon as a Mentor

Moon, with “super-ness” arising with her fullness, captivates my heart (yes, I gender the Moon…and realize “she” has been both male and female in mythology. Hopefully, you will humor me.) The November full Moon was hidden behind a storm, so I had to imagine her beauty. It was the closest she would be to Earth this year (thus a “Supermoon.”) And like the tides, I am sensitive to her power. I have an app on my phone that tells me when the Moon rises and sets, where she is in her cycle, etc. She feels like a companion, or more of a mentor, on how to travel through life. The thought that we might mine the Moon for minerals, might mar her surface for our own gain, hurts my own heart. I want to warn her. Instead, I trust her withstanding of space debris on a regular basis over the millennia will enable her to navigate whatever we send her way. Where do you seek mentors in all their forms?

Slow Walking as a Spiritual Practice

Walking Joey, my adopted rescue pug, each morning and afternoon, at what I call a “pug’s pace,” I’ve discovered is a spiritual practice. It is about being present. Joey, as is typical of most dogs, checks the community message boards and leaves his own comments. As we stroll his pace, I practice patience and observe the world. Autumn mornings are an especially potent portal. The sky transforms from star dark to cloud awareness. Birds awaken and those who linger year round scurry in the downed brown leaves foraging for bugs. Wind curls around Oaks, sometimes playfully, but more often getting the lay of the land for the next storm. The Maple that was blazing red and gold two days ago has been relieved of Leaves after recent heavy Rains. The last of the Dahlias and Zinnias, faded to drab yellows, oranges, and purples, heavy with endings, are bowing in prayer to the Soil from which they arose. Grass is an expansive green, the yellowed spots of Summer an afterthought. Shrubs are red and bursting with Berries for Winter’s feasting. And the Crows always offer a running commentary as we walk. Rain, clear Skies, or fog. Wind or calm. They are stalwarts through it all.

Autumn has long been a favorite season. But the longer I become seasoned by loss, by Grief, the deeper it settles into my sense of being. The more I appreciate the examples of letting go. The decay. The preparation for Winter…a season that as I have aged I now love with a depth I would have brushed aside in my youth.

The Long Dark

In his new book, In The Absence of the Ordinary, Soul Work for Times of Uncertainty, Francis Weller talks about having an “apprenticeship with slowness” as a way to connect with the rhythm of the soul. Of our need to move at the pace of “geologic speed.” “Slowing down,” he says, “offers us an opportunity to establish bonds of intimacy with those around us—partners, children, and friends—out into the wider terrain of the beautiful and strange otherness.” (pg 110) As our current culture implores us to speed up, I’ve been practicing slowing way down.

He also states that we have “clearly entered the Long Dark.” (pg 5) This is not a place without hope but it will be an arduous time. He offers medicine for dark times. But as we live in a light infused world, I crave times when I can be in a place that is dark. When I can stand outside, turn off my flashlight and gaze up at stars without ambient light. And I am more aware than I have been in the past with my own inner darkness…not that I am always comfortable, but I am willing to enter the cave…or womb. There is much growth that takes place in darkness. And much rest. I have written about this before in previous blogs over the years, so it is a tender place of learning for me. I am always learning.

What is Apprenticing You?

Much of what he shared in his essays (more about this below under recommendations) weaves in with other reflecting I’ve been doing lately. I’ve been participating in an event through The Emergent Network called Becoming Sanktauree (about making Sanctuary.) A lot of overlap with what Weller offered in his book and a webinar event of his I attended (also linked below.) The invitation given in one session: “what is apprenticing you?” An invitation that is coursing its way through my marrow.

Not Looking for Answers

I am in a season in my life (would Autumn be a good fit?) where I am discerning what to shed. Asking “what are my ‘yeses’ and what are my ‘noes’?” (also from one of the sessions.) A shift is happening. I have a passion for my work with Grief and Spiritual Companionship. A “yes.” My volunteering at the farmer’s market and being part of my community. A “yes.” The rest…I am in a process of discernment. I submitted paperwork to become a “retired” board certified chaplain…finally. I need to rework my website as I decide what I still want to offer…that will be a work in process.

This is not about having answers or a path forward. Just listening. I’ll head to the Coast in December for my annual Autumn retreat. It is always a balm. Joey will stay with the foster family that cared for him before he came to live with me. Our first separation. I’m sure he will do fine…they love him! Me…we will see.

“Grief Runs On Multiple Clocks”

In my Summer newsletter I shared about the death of poet Andrea Gibson. Their wife, poet and writer Megan Falley, has been continuing Andrea’s “Things That Don’t Suck” Substack as she shares her grieving for them. Posts that are raw and tender. She shares about the deep missing of Andrea. About how “Grief runs on multiple clocks.” About how the “texture of her Grief” shifts day-by-day. Hour-by-hour even. How she doesn’t like the question “How are you?” If you’ve ever lost someone significant in your life perhaps that is a question you also dread. All the posts are worth a read, but I recommend “Don’t Ask a Widow This,” if you only have time for one.

Come See Me In The Good Light, is a documentary that chronicles how Andrea’s illness (ovarian cancer) transformed their life. It was released on the Apple TV streaming platform November 14th. I haven’t watched it yet, but it has been acclaimed at film festival screenings (it won the Sundance Film Festival audience award). A New York Times’ article about the movie quotes the impact on Andrea: “I was known, I think, as a fairly optimistic writer that leaned toward the light,” they said. “But when I got diagnosed with cancer, I just thought, ‘Oh, look at all this that I’ve been missing. There’s so much beauty here.’ I could truly feel every second of the day as this very generous gift. And so it changed my writing.” For this I will sign up for Apple TV and watch the movie, tissues close at hand.

For Your Reflection

• how do you feel or respond going into the darker days of Autumn and Winter? if you live in the Southern Hemisphere, consider this metaphorically.

• what might be “apprenticing” you? do you have a sense something needs to shift in your life?

• when you are deeply grieving, what questions do you wish were not asked? is “how are you?” one of them? what do you wish you were asked?

• what would it look like to slow down (if you feel a need to?) is there anything you would like to shed? what are your “yeses “and your “noes”?

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others?

Recording: A Slow Walk With Loss Presentation

I presented A Slow Walk With Loss: Anticipatory Grieving in Dementia Care for HOPE, Dementia Support in August and it was recorded. If you are the carer of a loved one, family member, friend of someone with dementia, want to support someone who is journeying with someone with dementia, or are curious, the recording is now available on YouTube. Here is the link.

Offering: My Passion and Heart

Spiritual Direction/Companionship

Spiritual Companionship is the heart of my practice. I offer the gift of coming alongside and providing deep listening. This allows one to hear their own wisdom. Their own stories. To connect with their Source as they define and have experienced Mystery in their lives. To hold space to reflect on beliefs with curiosity without judgment. To be in the midst of their Grief & Loss and have someone simply be with them, taking time, all the time needed/desired to allow the journey to unfold. To celebrate joys. And more.

I meet with folks from diverse beliefs and spiritual backgrounds and practices. Different ages and genders. All are welcome. Yes, my writing reflects my unfolding curiosities and path. So yes, I am on my own journey, but I have a director that I sort through my “stuff” with, so I won’t be trying to nudge you over to my ways of thinking.

To find out more about my philosophy, background, training and “tools” that we can use in a session, check out my website. I follow the ethics of Spiritual Directors International., where I am a member.

I have space available. I meet with folks in-person or via Zoom. Please reach out if you have questions about how a session might unfold.

I always appreciate referrals!

Recommendations

Book

In The Absence of the Ordinary, Soul Work for Times of Uncertainty. Francis Weller’s book The Wild Edge of Sorrow (also found under Weller’s book link) shifted my whole approach to being with Grief. The insights I gained led me to becoming an “Apprentice to Grief.” I came to understand how it is never about fixing another’s pain…or even the world’s, but about being deeply present. About deep listening. Even deeply being with my own losses. So when his new book of essays “on grief, change, and sacred transitions” was published, I dove right in.

Some of the essays were previously available on his website (I had read them a few years ago, but the reread was great.) In this compilation book they are introduced and ended with new insights for these shifting times. There is no sugar-coating the suffering of what his calls the “descent into the Long Dark.” And yet he offers medicine that, if we are willing to allow ourselves to refocus from an individualistic to “an entangled” with the world approach (my paraphrase,) there is hope.

Podcasts

With the release of his book, Francis Weller has been on a podcast that I would recommend to get a sense of the book. It is also a podcast I listen to on a regular basis to deepen my “being with” Grief. Your Going To Die, The Podcast (Y2DG ) titled “The Long Dark w/Francis Weller,” ran Sept. 11. (The first link is general to Podlink so you can scroll to find the show on your favorite app. The second is via Apple Podcasts because I can’t figure out how go previous episodes in Podlink.)

Weller shares about our culture being “the remnants of a living culture” with our being overly focused on “the self” and consumerism (I am simplifying.) That soul offers a wider perspective. He says, “Soul says, no, I want to live in a multi-centric cosmos, where everything is speaking. Everything is alive. Everything is open to relationship, open to intimacy.” It is a thoughtful conversation. I hope you’ll take time to listen.

Season three of Anderson Cooper’s podcast, All There Is, is now releasing new episodes weekly. Anderson may not be a “Grief expert,” except that he is in that he has had losses in his life and the journey to recognizing his need to “grieve” has opened up this space via his learning to be with Grief. An honest space where he seems to have his own revelation each week even as he interviews “famous” people.

I’ve listened to the first three episodes and I appreciate Anderson’s tenderness in meeting folks where they are with loss. His time with Kenny Chesney was especially tender. Anderson with his vast reach perhaps can move the needle on Grief Literacy. Here’s hoping.

YouTube

Speaking of both Anderson Cooper and Francis Weller, I attended a live event at the end of September (I was in the Zoom room, but would have loved to have been in the actual room-sigh,) Tending the Soul in Uncertain Times. It felt like a necessary conversation for these, well, uncertain times. Beyond the conversation there was a time of ritual (explained in the conversation) that can easily be done at home. The event is also available as a Podcast on Soundcloud..

Importance of Grief Awareness

November is Children’s Grief Awareness Month and the National Alliance for Children’s Grief is working to “Flip The Script” to help educate folks on childhood grief. I recently attended a fundraising event for the Dougy Center for Grieving Children, which is participating in the “Flip The Script” outreach. They shared this statistic that surprised me: 1 in 11 children in the U.S. will experience the death of a parent or sibling by age of 18. That’s over 6.4 million children. By the age of 25 that more than doubles to 15.5 million youth. (statistics from National Alliance for Children’s Grief.) Loss can be overwhelming at any age, but imagine being in the midst of grieving while navigating your childhood, teens, young adulthood.

Complicated Grief

In my “Slow Loss” presentation I share a story about a young woman whose father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s when she was a teenager and her Grief surrounding his slow decline. His slowly dying. A complicated grief that often goes unnoticed in our fast-paced society. I recommend reading “jealous of my friend’s dad’s funeral” by Jennifer Phillips for an example of how the landscape of living with someone who has an advance serious illness may look through the eyes of a young person. How that death will impact them.

My father died when I was 26 from heart disease. It will be 40 years ago come this January. There were no resources in 1986 that were readily available and my family just kept moving forward. It has taken me years to “go back” and grieve my father’s death. It is likely one of the reasons I have been drawn to this call. To be Grief’s apprentice. To have worked as a hospice chaplain. To volunteer as a facilitator at The Dougy Center for the Pathways Program. To honor Grief as a wise and ancient teacher.

Grief Support Model

The Dougy Center has support groups for young adults (and kids and teens) like I was so many years ago. And though Dougy groups are local to the Portland Metro area, the model is taught throughout the world. I recommend heading over to the website as I cannot do it justice to all they offer.

One last note. Dougy Center is offering a free webinar: Grief in the Teenage Years: What We Miss & What They Need. November 20th, 10-11:30 PST. Registration in advance is required.

Final Thoughts

Holiday advertisements have been inundating all the media feeds for weeks now. (“Feeds”—an interesting way to phrase that. Do you every feel like you are “prey” being fed on…?) It will only intensify until the end of the calendar year. Even with my limited engagement with social media I can easily become overwhelmed.

So consider those who are grieving new and old loses. The holidays can be especially tender. The masks we don to “be nice.” To “smile.” To “not stir up old stuff,” saying to ourselves “it is not worth it,” can leave folks feeling raw and alone.

I don’t have any simple answers except to say please don’t judge the person who “snarls” when you say out of custom “Happy Holidays!” “Merry Christmas!” We never know what they are carrying. Whose name, whose story they would like to share….maybe their own.

Today as I walked Joey I noticed a home that ALREADY had up holiday lights and I could see their lighted tree through the window. I thought, “What they heck. Seriously!” And yes, I was judgy. But as I walked on I began to step into “chaplain mode,” remembering the bed sides I came alongside during the holidays. For all I know someone in that home has been given a diagnosis of a few weeks to live. Perhaps Christmas is their favorite holiday. Maybe creating Christmas today is their desire. We never know someone else’s story.

The energy is already heightened in the world. Please do what you need to take soft and tender care of your hearts. To care for your Grief. Let your Grief care for you. And let me know how you are being.

with gratitude,

anne

PS: December 21st is Winter Solstice. For the last few years I have taken part in a “Longest Night” gathering hosted by Portland’s Waverly United Church of Christ. I facilitate the labyrinth offering (one of several choices during the evening.) The theme this year is rhythms of resilience. This free event is in-person from 6:45-8:30pm and all are welcome.

The feedback from those who have attended in the past is that the quiet, the songs (Portland Threshold Singers provide singing and song care,) and the creative spaces are a nourishing reprieve from the cacophony of the holiday season. If you live in the Portland area I hope you can join us.

Hello Dear Ones,

In my neighborhood we are now fully into the rhythm of Summer. Those frenetic mating Bird songs of Spring that precede Sun’s early risings have eased into parental lessons. They tend toward later starts and a softer urgency. There is so much as a parent to be exampled on top of the instinctual nature hatched in the chicks! And as mid-July crests, I imagine those who hatch two families each Summer have already fledged brood number one and are well on the way to parenting number two.

The deeper of my two birdbaths gets less visitors this time of year. During the mating-nest building season, it was a favorite of the House Finches, but I rarely see them visit now. The shallow bath however is a favorite for a variety of wee Birds to dip and sip from. Less rain means less puddles, so I take my responsibility as a water source seriously. And even Crows have been stopping by for a quick sip. I do feel honored.

Tipping Point of Summer

In some cultures Summer Solstice is considered the mid-point of Summer instead of the start as that is when Earth turns back towards longer nights (and, of course, the reverse for our Southern Hemisphere neighbors as they just had Winter Solstice.) I actually prefer this view. As someone who struggles with the heat and longer days, even a minute or two of shorter days feels like a reprieve. Sure, a lot of hot, long days are forthcoming and I am gorging of the colors of Hydrangeas, Roses, Black-eyed Susans, Sweet Peas, Gladiolas, Dahlias…well you get the palate picture that this season offers when I walk around my neighborhood. But I settle into my body with more ease in Autumn and Winter, so while attempting to stay present to Summer, I glance forward with longing to those seasons

Marking Harvests with Gratitude

August 1st is Lughnasadh/Lammas in the Celtic and Christian traditions, marking an eighth turn on the calendar wheel. It celebrates the beginning of the harvest season (though as someone who volunteers at the local farmers’ market, the harvest seems to be well under way!) But its intent is to pause to offer gratitude. I found this blog, the smallest light, offering some ways to pause and celebrate in the midst of this busy time. If taking time out to pause and reflect on this season in a new way inspires you, I invite you to go take a peek.

Does Grief Take a Summer Holiday?

And where does Grief go in the ramped up activity of Summer schedules? Does Grief take a holiday? My sense is, though I don’t have a study to prove this, those who have losses, fresh or that are stirred anew this time of year, may feel they are caught in an undertow. With the inundation of colors, the endless options of and invitations to community events, the energy of the Sun cascading out of blue Skies day after day, grievers may feel unable to share Grief with others. Don’t want to “burden” anyone with their sorrow and sadness. And yet losses are as likely to occur this time of year as any other. Accidents, illnesses, storms, wildfires, job loss, broken relationships, deaths…these and other losses don’t take the summer off.

Being Soft With Grief

If you are Grieving, your body and spirit may be wanting to rest. Stay indoors. Be still. The whirl of activity and invitations may be pulling at you to come out. Participate. Smile. And for some, engaging in some activity may be nourishing. For others, it may be draining. Learning to sit in softness with yourself may be all you have energy for. Finding those who can sit in that space with you without trying to fix you…who are those folks in your life? Navigating Summer with Grief doesn’t come with a GPS. Allowing many nourishing rest stops would be a kindness. And don’t forget sunscreen and a sleeping mask.

Grieving as a Communal Act: Honoring Andrea Gibson

Grief can, of course, be individual or communal. On July 14th poet Andrea Gibson died. The outpouring of love and sorrow at their passing on Social Media is a testimony to the depth and width of their impact on the lives of those they touched (and will continue to touch.). How to even choose what to link to…what to share? There’s the Guardian’s obituary, one of the best I thought. How about her Substack post from March 13, 2025, A List of Things I Love, (see quote above,) which is a reminder of their beautiful heart and at the end of the post includes this: “In the end/I want my heart/to be covered/in stretch marks.” (That is being re-posted all over the internet.)

Their work was prolific (a quick google search will bring up a multitude.). A most tender gift offered to the world: a last interview with Andrea reading the poem Love Letter From the Afterlife. A poem they personally wrote to Megan Falley, their wife, and decided to extend to everyone. You can also read it on Substack: Love Letter From the Afterlife. If you click over to the YouTube, I recommend having a tissue handy.

I already miss Andrea…but in stretching my heart with her beautiful wise, words, I know I/we haven’t lost them.

Communal Grief: the Thread That Weaves us Together

Communal Grief…every post I read about Andrea, I find my eyes welling with tears. Their poems, their heart touched me so tenderly and deeply. There are other events in the world that I am grieving in community. That sorrow my heart. Communal Grief…I want to believe it is the thread that weaves our humanity to each other and other Beings. That weaves me to you.

For Your Reflection

• how are you navigating Grief this Summer? is it something you are aware of? perhaps your Summer is “Grief free” and that is okay. if you are Grieving, what does it look like to be soft with your Grief? to allow for rest? to be nourished? to let others know you are Grieving?

• in the midst of seasonal cycles, global upheaval, and all that is unfolding in our world, taking time for gratitude may feel out of place or overwhelming. if you were to take a minute, hour, day for a gratitude ritual, what might that look like?

• what would your “List of Things I Love” include?

• if you listened to or read “Love Letter from the Afterlife” is there a line or part of the poem that resonates with you? or that you want to push back against? i invite you to simply be curious about any response you have.

• what, if anything, are you Grieving communally? do you do it alone even if it is a community happening, join with others, or a combination?

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others?

Upcoming Presentation

I will be presenting A Slow Walk With Loss: Anticipatory Grieving in Dementia Care for HOPE, Dementia Support on Tuesday, August 26th, 6:30-8:00 PT via Zoom. This presentation was well received in previous years so they asked me back! If you are the carer of a loved one, family member, friend of someone with dementia, or want to support someone who is journeying with someone with dementia, please join me. And pass the information along. I didn’t see the link for registration available on their website yet, so contact me if you are interested and I will pass it along as soon as it is available.

Offering: Usual Reminder 😊

Spiritual Direction/Companionship

Spiritual Companionship is the heart of my practice. I offer the gift of coming alongside and providing deep listening. This allows one to hear their own wisdom. Their own stories. To connect with their Source as they define and have experienced Mystery in their lives. To hold space to reflect on beliefs with curiosity without judgment. To be in the midst of their Grief & Loss and have someone simply be with them, taking time, all the time needed/desired to allow the journey to unfold. To celebrate joys. And more.

I meet with folks from diverse beliefs and spiritual backgrounds and practices. Different ages and genders. All are welcome. Yes, my writing reflects my unfolding curiosities and path. So yes, I am on my own journey, but I have a director that I sort through my “stuff” with, so I won’t be trying to nudge you over to my ways of thinking.

To find out more about my philosophy, background, training and “tools” that we can use in a session, check out my website. I follow the ethics of Spiritual Directors International., where I am a member.

I have space available. I meet with folks in-person or via Zoom. Please reach out if you have questions about how a session might unfold.

I always appreciate referrals!

A Wee Bonus on How Grief Evolves

Musician Nick Cave offers an almost weekly newsletter, The Red Hand Files, where he reflects on questions sent in by fans. I find his responses kind and thoughtful, though rarely offering “answers.” He is often asked about pain, sorrow, and Grief having had two of his sons predecease him. His most recent offering #331, ‘It’s been ten years since your son Arthur died. What have you and Susie learned in those years?’ starts out: “The pain remains, but I have found that it evolves over time. Grief blossoms with age, becoming less a personal affront, less a cosmic betrayal, and more a poetic quality of being as we learn to surrender to it. As we are confronted with the intolerable injustice of death, what seems unbearable ultimately turns out not to be unbearable at all. Sorrow grows richer, deeper, and more textured. It feels more interesting, creative, and lovely.

“To my great surprise, I discovered that I was part of a common human story.”

He goes on to share how his wife Susie still dreams of Arthur. About heartbreak and things getting better with time. And how they always remember him. It is a rich reflection and worth a click over to read. Especially if you are in the midst of early loss and you feel as if the grayness of sorrow will never lift. I can’t promise, but it may offer some hope.

Final Thoughts

My sojourn to Scotland was an adventure, though not quite as I had planned (see Spring Newsletter: Final Thoughts). I managed to tweak my left knee the first day of my walk. This caused considerable pain for my six days of walking (grateful to my walking companion for her patience as it slowed my pace!) However, the countryside was stunning and it did not rain (a first for one of these sojourns.)

An aging body does not recover as quickly as a youthful one. Even with the gentle care I received visiting my cousin after the walk, I found my hopes for connecting with the “wildness” of the Land withering away as I limped along even on sidewalks. So I altered my plans. Made lemonade out of my lemony knee and made due with visiting museums and art galleries and returned home a week early. I reflected on my Substack about stitching together a sojourn and pulling at narrative threads if you are curious for more details and want to see some photos (sheep!)

And finally, I have a new fur companion in my abode. A seven year-old rescue pug, Joey. It has been eight and a half years since my Hugo died and while I missed him immensely, it took this long before my life was settled enough to bring a dog back into my home. Joey is a sweet fella and I enjoy the “click click” of his nails on the floor, the snuffle of his pug breathing and his snuggling up on the couch while I read. He is working on training me to meet all his needs. Grateful for Joey.

Please take soft and tender care of your hearts. And let me know how you are being.

with gratitude,

anne

Hello dear ones,

Magnolias announced Spring a hare’s breath before Japanese and other flowering Cherries in the Pacific NW. Magnolias, holding tight to their magic in fuzzy bud scale-tipped twigs waited until the perfect moment. It was an overnight awakening after a spat of short-sleeved weather that splayed the white-bright petals out like a child’s rendition of a tissue-paper star. Their sweet aroma enticed me to breathe deep. Cherries, not to be outdone, have erupted like small firework displays on their branches. Pompoms clustered like small fists ready to punch wonder into my Winter addled brain.

Songs Sparrows and House Finches, having used late February and early March to warm up their vocals, are now in full frenzy, their voices overlapping in the early morning competition to attract mates. Male House Finches have breast and crown feathers the color of ripe Persimmons…perhaps the closest we west-coasters have to “red birds,” alongside Robins. I am envious of my east coast friends and their Cardinals.

Early Calls of Spring

Sitting at my kitchen table, I watch a male Finch in the now vibrantly budding red-tipped Dogwood casting his gaze around the Landscape and singing as if his life depends on it. I suppose it does. Other Finches and Sparrows join him as well as Black-Capped Chickadees. It is a robust community, at least to my untrained eye. And there are always Crows swooping. Cawing. Diving. Mischief-making.

Robins appeared to be absent this Spring, but recently I heard their bell-clear song in the still dark as I headed out for my morning swim. Last winter, they scrapped by and dotted the cold frozen hill out back with their orange breasts. Until I heard them singing, I wondered if they had found a new home. I had an inkling of feeling bereft at their absence, these winged ones that have been given the responsibility by poets to call in Spring. Hearing their notes lifted my spirits.

Spiritual Practice of Noticing

Noticing Land and Beings where I abide is a spiritual practice for me. A reminder that I am a part of this animate world. The emerging energy of Spring is drawing me out of a malaise I have been feeling these last few months. Normally I love the darkness of Winter. It is my time to nest, rest, restore. I would be one of those people if you moved me farther north (okay, maybe not all the way to Finland) with longer stretches of dark, I would be quite content to forestall Spring. And Summer…the blare of sun long into the evening…is too hot for me. But this year, the ease I typically feel in Winter eluded me after the turning toward light grew in January, February. (I wrote about this in my Substack post (is there ease in being uncomfortable from a place of comfort?) My concentration waned. My words evaporated. I spent most of my time reading and listening to podcasts. Spinning around in my own head.

Leaning Into the Chaos

And so I am leaning into Spring. Its chaotic yet somehow rhythmic energy to help me be with these unsettled times (and yes, these are unsettled times.) So much of what is unfolding makes no sense to me. And in a way it does. Does Spring offer a metaphor? Probably. And maybe not really (and you know I love a metaphor), except to trust that this Earth is a world wrapped in cycles upon cycles upon cycles. And also is always composting and recreating so something new can emerge.

Community as Wellness

Where will this lead? A seer I am not. I do know that being in community is vital for my own wellbeing right now. So I am strengthening my ties to my beloveds…which includes friends, family, neighbors, non-human Beings, the person in line at the grocery store who could use a kind word. An expansive view. I wrote about this too in another Substack, (community, connection, creativity.)

One of the things that gives me the most joy these days is volunteering at my local farmers’ market. Rain, shine, or blustery wind, I leave my shift with a big smile on my heart. As an introvert, it gets me out of my head, involved away from my usual Grief work (which I still have a passion for) and around a variety of people. And the wee ones are so fun to watch! The colors of fresh produce arrayed in the stalls is art!

Is Life Going to Get Easier?

Is life going to get easier? Black-Capped Chickadee was bathing in the birdbath. Bob the head. Twirl the body. Looks like joy to me. Song Sparrow swooped in and was not about the share the space (this ill-informed human thought there was room.) They squabbled. Did an air “battle.” Chickadee departed. Sparrow sipped and splashed. Chickadee returned. Tried to share, but nope, Sparrow was having none of it. Chickadee finally flew away as did Sparrow. I try to force an analogy of what is transpiring in the world around me. Then decide to just let it be what it was. Life among birds.

I think of all the birds sitting in Dogwood. They negotiate for their space. Their place in the world. They are all the same size and, perhaps, prey for the Raptors. But still, they have their way of being…and who I am to know the way of birds (though I really wish to be a bird some days.) Is life going to get easier? No. Can I allow space for more ease? More room to breathe? Breathe in the sweet tangy aroma of the Magnolia? Questions I need to sit with as I emerge with Spring. A lot to ponder….

What Has Covid Grief Taught Us?

I would be remiss if I did not mention the five year anniversary of the Covid pandemic. Lives were forever altered, whether it be the death of loved ones, the effects of long Covid that may still be lingering, and the presence still of how we engage in public spaces with caution—our increased awareness of viruses (flu, Covid, and other contagious diseases), and all the other myriad ways Covid seeped into our lives. How it brought Grief to the forefront, at least for a while. What have we remembered? What have we forgotten?

Photos on my camera roll are a stark reminder of those early days. And as my iPhone doesn’t let me forget, neither do our wise bodies. If you feel extra tender these next few months, perhaps it is an echo of those hard hard early uncertain Covid days. Perhaps even being poked at by these current uncertain times. So please, do be kind to yourself and those you meet in your day. It may not cure what ails us, but kindness is soft, like Magnolia petals, now fluttering to the ground as Spring storms blow through.

For Your Reflection

• how is your energy as you emerge with the change of seasons? (if you are in the Southern Hemisphere, are you feeling a sense of wanting to withdraw into the dark?)

• what do you notice about or how do you engage with the land and non-human beings in your life? (for me it is part of my spiritual practice.)

• what are you observing in yourself during these unsettled times? what is useful for you? i read a lot of different ideas from wise folks, so there is certainly no one way to cope. it is often an ongoing process of sorting what works (and then letting one way go after a while and experimenting with a new way.)

• where do you find community? how do you define community? are you expanding or contracting your connections to others these days and how does that support you?

• folks are grieving a lot of different things right now. loss of jobs. income. sense of security. broken relationships. deaths (of course.) and so much more. what are you grieving? have you taken time to name your Grief(s)? after naming your Grief(s), how are you honoring your Grief journey. do you have rituals that are helpful?

• who do you need to tell that you appreciate them? seriously. it might be the person who rings up your groceries. or a friend, or your healthcare provider. or your local bookstore employee (ahem, buy local). we all need extra doses of kindness these days.

• as you reflect back on those early Covid days, is there anything stirring you need to name? let go of? are still carrying? if you find doing rituals helpful, is there one you can do alone or with others that would honor your Covid experiences?

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others?

Recommendations

Podcast

Though I have not read The Grieving Body: How the Stress of Loss Can Be an Opportunity for Healing, I read and found very informative Dr. Mary Frances O’Connor’s first Book, The Grieving Brain. However, I did listen to this podcast: You’re Going to Die, Adaptation with Mary-Frances O’Connor. This I recommend because it is packed full of wisdom and warmth. (And yes, I plan to get the book.)

One thing that has stuck with me from the podcast is treating bereavement like we do pregnancy. Pregnancy isn’t an illness or disease, but as a society we treat it with special attention, offering extra care and interventions when needed, paying attention to the changes in the body. Dr. O’Connor says bereavement should be treated the same way. The grieving individual is not ill. Is not diseased. They have lost, in essence, a part of themselves and their body is responding appropriately and needs care. It is presented so tenderly in the podcast. I hope you take time to listen.

Here is a synopsis of the book from her website: “The follow-up to celebrated grief expert, neuroscientist, and psychologist Dr. Mary-Frances O’Connor’s The Grieving Brain focuses on the impact of grief—and life’s other major stressors—on the human body.

Coping with death and grief is one of the most painful human experiences. While we can speak to the psychological and emotional ramifications of loss and sorrow, we often overlook its impact on our physical bodies. Dr. Mary-Frances O’Connor specializes in the study of grief, and in The Grieving Body she shares vital scientific research, revealing imperative new insights on its profound physiological impact. As she did in The Grieving Brain, O’Connor combines illuminating studies and personal stories to explore the toll loss takes on our cardiovascular, endocrine, and immune systems and the larger implications for our long-term well-being.

The Grieving Body addresses questions about how bereavement affects us, such as:

• Can we die of a broken heart?

• What happens in our bodies when we’re grieving?

• How do our coping behaviors affect our physical health?

• What is the cognitive impact of grief?

• Why are we more prone to illness during times of enormous stress?”

Book #1

Excited to finally have read Sophie Strand’s book, The Body is a Doorway. I have followed Sophie for a few years now, finding her initially through SAND (Science and Nonduality) presentations (she has several available now on their website).

If you know anyone with a chronic illness, have a chronic illness, have felt beleaguered trying to navigate the health and wellness industrial complex even if you are “healthy” in our culture, I recommend Sophie’s book. Yes, it is a memoir (I do like memoirs), but she weaves in in-depth research in mythology, science, and I would say mysticism, alongside her personal narrative. She avoids binary thinking, acknowledging that, yes, we do need to engage with the western medical model while also understanding its exhausting limits. Sophie’s memoir ends, but her story, which continues on her Substack, Make Me Good Soil, is ongoing as she continues to journey with her illness. I have learned so much from following her. As she writes toward the end of the book:


”But I do not want to lie. … I never planned to write about being sick. I worried—still worry—that labeling myself as sick is the kind of self-capture our capitalist culture so readily encourages. Is writing a book about being sick a nocebo? Does it convince my body that it must continue to live into the disease?…But my body is bigger and wilder than even that superstition….

[…]

“I run into an acquaintance in the grocery store as I try to decide what food is not going to kill me today. My safe foods are dwindling again….’Congrats on all your success with you books! You’re really glowing. I’m glad you’re feeling better.’ ‘Thanks…’ I swallow back bile. My pain. I erase the complexity of my experience to pacify someone else’s inability to stay with pain and sorrow. I am not feeling better, I want to say to her. And I may feel worse. But I am feeling every part of me. Can you feel with me?”

Book #2

The other book I was anticipating was Lidia Yukanvich’s new memoir, Reading the Waves. In my Winter newsletter I asked, “What are you carrying?” As if I needed to reflect on this more deeply myself, that was one on the themes that was woven throughout her book. How do we carry our stories? How can we shift perspective? Who do we carry with us?

Lidia writes raw and honest on the page. If swearing, sex, and drug use are difficult for you to read, this may not be the book for you. But if you want a book that is not only memoir, but an invitation (it also written with advice on how to move through a story) to shift perspectives with courage, then the invitation is there. To crack open spaces in your own life and look anew, then this may be the book for you.

The last chapter of the book is titled Solaces. Brief thoughts about how you, I, might engage with what she has offered. Here is one on “carrying” that resonated:

“YOU MAY HAVE to lay some bodies down; you do not need to carry every body forever. We take turns moving the burdens from body to body to dirt to water to sky. Sometimes people who have the bodies for carrying life forget that carrying life is not the only way to be in a body. We have to remind each other there are many ways to carry life, to share life, to transfer life, to let go. Ask the animals. Ask the trees. Ask water.”

Grief Poem on a Podcast

Grief and honoring the dead has been around for millennia. It is not without merit to say it predates our evolution back to our Neanderthal relatives. The podcast Poetry Unbound is hosted by Pádraig Ó Tuama where he reads a poem and then offers some explanation, then reads the poem again. The poem “Neanderthal Dig” by Don McKay, was already touching, but Pádraig’s expanding on it with his sharing of a personal experience (a father burying his young son), along with knowledge about the author of the poem sunk the poem deep into my heart and I wept each time I listened. And yes, I listened more than once. I invite you to click on the link and take the 14 minutes to listen.

Here are the first lines: “When we dug up the grave/we found a child’s bones/ laid on a great swan’s wing.”

Offering: Reminder

Spiritual Direction/Companionship:

Spiritual Companionship is the heart of my practice. I offer the gift of coming alongside and providing deep listening. This allows one to hear their own wisdom. Their own stories. To connect with their Source as they define and have experienced Mystery in their lives. To hold space to reflect on beliefs with curiosity without judgment. To be in the midst of their Grief & Loss and have someone simply be with them, taking time, all the time needed/desired to allow the journey to unfold. To celebrate joys. And more.

I meet with folks from diverse beliefs and spiritual backgrounds and practices. Different ages and genders. All are welcome. Yes, my writing reflects my unfolding curiosities and path. So yes, I am on my own journey, but I have a director that I sort through my “stuff” with, so I won’t be trying to nudge you over to my ways of thinking.

• To find out more about my philosophy, background, training and “tools” that we can use in a session, check out my website. I follow the ethics of Spiritual Directors International., where I am a member.

• I have space available. I meet with folks in-person or via Zoom. Please reach out if you have questions about how a session might unfold.

• I always appreciate referrals!

Final Thoughts

Third week of April I’ll be heading out on a another UK sojourn. These seem to roll around every three years. In 2019 I was “Sojourning with Grief” which centered on grieving my Mother. 2022 was “Sojourning with Stillness” which reflected more deeply on my ancestral roots. Both of these sojourns are in the blog archives. This sojourn’s “title” is still bubbling, though will likely be focused on wildness, tenderness, (see my Winter Newsletter) and my father will fold in there somewhere.

My father’s presence has been stirring since January 2026 will be the 40th anniversary of his death. Forty years. What do I remember? My memories are as faded as a newspaper bleached by the sun. I read a Substack called Memoir Land. One a few weeks ago The Memoir Land Author Questionnaire was with Rebe Huntman, writing about her mother thirty years after her death and the questions she used to maintain her focus. The questions, the intention, the length of time. It struck a chord with me. And so I copied the questions and have started a separate journal…one that looks different from my other daily journal to engage with my father, to stir memories, our relationship, and more. I’ll bring him, and the journal, with me and see what arises.

As part of my actual journey I’m walking St. Cuthbert’s Way the first week with a friend. Next visiting my Scottish cousin on my paternal side for a couple of days. Then seeing where my wild spirit leads me around Scotland. No concrete plans. This is out of my comfort zone (I am one who usually plans in detail) and I’m excited to see where the wild lands of Scotland lead.

Assuming I don’t get swallowed by a bog, you’ll get a “report” in my Summer Newsletter.

Until then, please take tender care of your hearts. And let me know how you are being.

With gratitude,

anne

PS. April is National Poetry Month (yay!) Way back in January Tiny Seed Literary Journal posted my poem, dry. Always grateful to Tiny Seed. Head on over to their website and find poetry nourishment this month.

dry

before the rain returns i
want to remember skin
peeling on my lips,
hands rubbing rough
against my arms on

cooling nights. i
want to remember
leaves veined brown
like rivers naked with
stale silt; spinning on

rusted clotheslines rustling
like taffeta skirts. i
want to remember the
season where there was
an abundance of

lacking. where the
wounds had no energy to
to scar. remember before storm
grates become masked in amber,
scarlet, sienna, creating pools knee

deep that tidal with
each passing car, threatening
to pull me under. i want
to remember grass pinpricking
against my sweat drenched body

as i gaze at morning
stars, salt beads sliding to
earth, a feeble offering of dew.
i want to remember
before i forget and grow

weary of oil slick streets,
clouds outpouring rivers’
fluted songs, when
abundance shifts to
another lack.

by anne richardson

Hello Dear Ones,

The Winter Solstice is newly passed in these northern climes and dawn arrives earlier in minute increments. Those who relish even one, two, three minutes of expanding light in these wakening days in the midst of Winter are exhaling a sigh of relief and scrawl the word “hope” on moist interior windows. As a relisher of the long, dark nights of Winter, I continue to sigh into the dark and appreciate the howl of the wind and rain as it beats against my windows while I sleep. That wind and rain drifting into my dreams…Salmon swimming in puddles going to…where? My dream did not say. Salmon, a powerful totem to the indigenous people of the Land where I live and to people of my Celtic ancestry. Water…a place for both inner solace and movement for my own transformations. A snippet of a dream that lingers days after waking. And I am comfortable with not needing to “know” what it means. Simply paying attention.

An Invitation: Noticing What We Carry

For the Longest Night, December 21st, I was once again included in the planning of an event that welcomed those who were sitting with Grief & Loss or simply wanting to step away from the bustle of the season. My co-collaborators are amazing. We came together and mulled themes, listened to each other and tuned into what was unfolding in the community around us. It took awhile for our theme to emerge: “What we carry; what carries us.” So many ways to receive that invitation.

At the event we had stones available for folks to carry, if they chose, throughout the evening. Stones as a representation for what they may have been carrying or carrying for others and take to any of several options of activities as well to include in community time at the start and finish. This idea of carrying reminds me of these lines from the Mary Oliver poem “Heavy:” "It's not the weight you carry//But in how you carry it--/Books, bricks, grief--/It's all in the way/You embrace it, balance it, carry it//When you cannot and would not,/Put it down." So many questions in those lines…the first being to ask yourself, “what am I carrying?” (or for our expanded invitation, “what might be carrying you?”)

Labyrinth Ritual

An invitation for the labyrinth walk (what I facilitated) was to carry a stone in and, if the participant chose, they could leave it in the basket in the center. At the end of the evening there were many stones in the basket. Folks needing to release what they have been carrying…at least for a while.

I took these precious stones home, set them outside the next day and allowed the rain to wash over them. Allowed the rain to release the weight of what was placed in them…grief, loss, tears, fear, anxiety, hopelessness, even joy, a long list I am sure…for what do I know of what people carry that needs to be set down? I offered gratitude to what those stones held, trusting in the gift of the ritual.

An Invitation to Carry & Reflect

This is a selection of the reflection questions I had available for the walkers, adjusted for this newsletter. Perhaps place a stone in your hand, take a walk (if you are unable to physically take a walk, hold a stone in your hand and use your imagination) and reflect on these questions:

• can i name what i have been carrying? how does it feel to name it?

• how weighty is this? where do i notice it in my body?

• am i carrying this for someone else?

• how have i been carried this year? has it been in community? by an individual? how does it feel to be carried?

• do i want leave the stone some place (perhaps some place special or just intuit a spot) or do i need to continue to carry it as a reminder moving forward…but perhaps the weight has shifted?

Ocean Connects & Carries

I set aside time in November to retreat to the North Oregon Coast shortly after the full Moon and King Tides (the tides were still monstrously high,) an atmospheric river pummeling the coastline. Much needed time to allow the rain to wash over me. To watch Ocean’s power from a safe vantage point and adjust my perspective as a single human on the planet.

The threshold place, liminal space where Ocean meets Land is where I ground myself, odd as that may sound. Where the watery parts of my soul find wild companionship. It is deep nourishment.

A Year of Shifts

Carry…the theme didn’t resonate with me at first (part of collaboration, right?), but it keeps gnawing at me. Whether as metaphor or in the emotional|physical|spiritual aspects. This year has, in hindsight, been one of unanticipated internal shifts. Some monumental. I’ve stumbled, which means I’ve dropped some things I’ve carried. Things that got broken (and you can read “things” expansively.). My inner landscape|seascape has been reconstituted and how I am carried by Land feels different. My friendships have deepened in a way that is nourishing and that has expanded my desire to carry my friends though their difficult seasons…and allow myself to be carried.

Wild Introvert

And, if you have followed me for any length of time you might remember how this is the time of year that feeds me. So I continue to find nourishment in how the dark carries me. Yes, I welcome the light, but as someone who spends a lot of time reading, exploring, pondering, the quiet of the dark holds space for my meandering mind. (Here’s a wee aside for my fellow introverts. I discovered the term “wild introvert” a couple of months ago and had a huge aha moment. “Yes! This is me.” Please read “Are Your A Wild Introvert?” if you are interested.)

Looking For What Connects, Not Separates

The wise quote about Oceans connecting us was another “light bulb” moment. Of course they don’t separate us. As continents formed, Oceans’ flows continued to connect one place to another, beings from one place hitching a ride on debris or other water beings. Water is the great “carrier.”

I swim laps four/five mornings a week, it is often where I sort things out, as water can hold (carry) my internal meanderings and feelings. I even compose whole posts in the pool, which unfortunately remain there as I have yet to figure out how to type and swim at the same time! And when I walk in the rain, it is water that is connecting me to place in the moment. Rain drops that originated from Clouds sourced from farther afield than my backyard. Clouds, like Ocean, are carriers. And now I’m starting to meander.

Meandering into Winter’s watery weather. As 2025 begins, being open to putting down what I no longer need to carry and allowing water to carry it away is an invitation. Being open to what Grief may ask me to carry is an invitation…this many years on the journey, I know to expect the unexpected. And, as always, remaining curious and kind.

For Your Reflection

• how do you connect with your inner self? with the world around you? i connect with water, but perhaps a different element resonates with you.

• how does the returning light shape your being in Winter? (or, if you live in the Southern Hemisphere, how does the lessening of light shape your being in Summer?)

• any thoughts on the carrying theme.

• one of my usual questions: where is Grief in your body, heart, life today? what conversation are you having with Grief?

• another usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others?

Recommendations

• Holly Pruett, Deathcare practitioner, guide, celebrant, and so much more (including a friend,) will have three different ways to explore Befriending Mortality in 2025. One is a six-week course in March hosted by the Rowe Center. The second is a new six-month pilot program: Befriending Mortality Support Groups. And the third is through individual sessions.

  Holly has two decades of experience in the deathcare, guide and celebrant field. She is kind and wise and I highly recommend her. Please check Befriending Mortality and her other offerings.

  In a culture where talking about our mortality is shied away from and even knowing how to start these conversations can be anxiety producing, it is easy to keep putting it off. Here is your opportunity to get a wee bit more comfortable.

• Over the last 18 months I’ve shared how the work of Báyò Akómoláfé and The Emergent Network has expanded my curiosity and thinking about how I am engaging in the world around me. In conjunction with For the Wild, The Emergent Network is releasing a Slow Study of “Báyò Akómoláfé's We Will Dance with Mountains: Vunja!” December 30th. If you are curious about Bayo’s work, this would be one entry point to explore further. I participated in “We Will Dance with Mountains: Vunja!” and I’m signing up because I am a slow study!

• I am in the midst of reading Something in the Woods Loves You by Jarod K Anderson. Per the start of the blurb: “An inspiring blend of nature writing and memoir that explores nature’s crucial role in our emotional and mental health.” The author’s mental health is mired in debilitating depression. His conversations with his depression, how he engages with nature and his journey out of his dark place (he starts in Winter and I just finished Spring…and dang it, the library is demanding I return it, so will have to wait to finish…he frames the book through the seasons) is written with honesty and beautifully lyrical language.

  If you know someone who is depressed or are yourself, I believe you would find this a helpful book. It has offered me a new perspective for those living with debilitating depression. Just a note, it has frequent references to suicidal ideation. And if you can, please purchase from your local indie, or check out from the library (though you may need to wait awhile.)

Offerings: Reminder

Spiritual Direction/Companionship:

Spiritual Companionship is the heart of my practice. I offer the gift of coming alongside and providing deep listening. This allows one to hear their own wisdom. Their own stories. To connect with their Source as they define and have experienced Mystery in their lives. To hold space to reflect on beliefs with curiosity without judgment. To be in the midst of their Grief & Loss and have someone simply be with them, taking time, all the time needed/desired to allow the journey to unfold. To celebrate joys. And more.

I meet with folks from diverse beliefs and spiritual backgrounds and practices. Different ages and genders. All are welcome. Yes, my writing reflects my unfolding curiosities and path. So yes, I am on my own journey, but I have a director that I sort through my “stuff” with, so I won’t be trying to nudge you over to my ways of thinking.

• To find out more about my philosophy, background, training and “tools” that we can use in a session, check out my website. I follow the ethics of Spiritual Directors International., where I am a member.

• I have space available. I meet with folks in-person or via Zoom. Please reach out if you have questions about how a session might unfold.

• I always appreciate referrals!

Grief and Labyrinth Facilitation Events/Workshops by Request

I have offered workshops and retreats in a variety of settings over the years. Collaborating in community to journey with Grief and Loss is one of my passions. My canvas labyrinth is often part of these gatherings. In my experience when folks engage with the labyrinth, a conversation about Grief opens up. I offered a tender event in November for an organization that was a “repeat” as it had been meaningful to the prior participants. I look forward to discussing possibilities with you. Please reach out if you are interested in a gathering.

Substack

I am doing the bulk of my writing on Substack as “following dandelion seeds.” I usually publish a post every two to three weeks. I find the format easier to engage with and enjoy following other writers. That is to say, if you find my writing and or pondering engaging, please follow me (or better yet “subscribe,” it’s free) over there. You do not need to download the app.

Here are links to my most recent posts: tender wildness: what if being Monstrous is radical kindness?

what is your language for Grief: portals for Wound care.

slow down. listen. the veil is thin: a new cartography for the threshold?

Final Thoughts

Toward the end of each year I listen to see what words might bubble up as guides moving forward. A poem maybe. This year my words appeared over the last few weeks: Wild | Allow(ing) | Tender(ness). At the end of October, start of November (in the liminal time when the veil is thin) I participated in a gathering called Becoming Monster. I found it deeply impactful and insightful about how I want to engage with the world around me. Wild expanded out of that. And tender has been part of my practice for a while, but wants to deepen. Allow asked to be the bridge. And the poem? I’ve been slow reading Ada Limón’s sharks in the rivers. One poem from the collection, “Ways to Ease Your Animal Mind” sent shivers through my body. (see poem below.) Her images had me sighing.

Speaking of rivers, the Pacific NW is the recipient of one atmospheric river after another. My November beach retreat was gloriously rain soaked (a bomb-cyclone no less) with splashes of sun-clearing. I will return again in January for my Winter retreat. This time of year nourishes my soul.

As we head into the turn of the calendar to 2025, I hope you are finding ways to nourish your body and spirit. If you can, perhaps extend that out to your community (I am finding my volunteer shifts at the local farmer’s market a delightful counterbalance to my rather deep diving interior…much needed air.)

Please take a moment to let me know how you are being in general and how you are being tender with yourself these days.

as always, grateful for your accompanying me on this journey,

anne

Hello Dear Ones,

Autumn arrived in a timely manner in the Pacific NW, which is not to say the gnawing appetite of wildfires have been quenched and parched soil is sated. But these mornings request an extra layer of clothing as Sun allows himself a few extra winks before rising. Night lingers layering Earth with a breath that hints of colder days ahead. On the small smidge of Land I am calling home ten months after my initial move, I now feel a sense of welcome and belonging. Welcome and Belonging…something I always seem to be a on quest for. Glancing through old posts, it is a common theme, especially back in 2018-19 after my mother’s death that led to my “Sojourn with Grief.”

Nestled in the Southwest area of Portland, streets tangle up and down hills in imitations of kittens playing with a ball of yarn. Many have repetitive names. (I am not sure if this is due to a lack of imagination, other historical factors, or an attempt at a “grid system” if one was staring down from 10,000’.) For example, I don’t know who “Mitchell” was, but he must have had some pull as he not only has a “Street,” but “Court,” “Lane,” “Circle,” ”Drive,”…I can’t remember what else I’ve come across. He is there at every turn ready to stymie me.

Curiosity vs Routine

Dead ends for cars may or may not lead to trails or small parks and I often find out by trekking up a hill only to be met by “private, keep out” signage. My walks have been extended beyond my planned hour on more than one occasion as I allow curiosity to be my guide versus routine. It also has confirmed my poor sense of direction and my eventually having to pull out my phone and use Google Maps to get home.

And those repetitive names, well, they can be a bit confusing as I am SURE they will lead me somewhere familiar and familiar is so comforting. And yes, this can be seen as a metaphor for the life journey (insert wink here.) Oh, and if we go on a wilderness hike together, don’t trust my, uh, leadership.

Comfortable with Being Uncomfortable

I am not one to give up on curiosity even when, especially when, it leads me into unfamiliar terrain. Curiosity is one of my spiritual practices (I wrote about it briefly in my last newsletter) though there are times I hunker down and forget to ask what poet-philosopher David Whyte calls “beautiful questions.” Those questions that allow for expansion of both my interior and exterior worlds. That allow me to release my ego and notice the interconnectedness of all Beings. Of what is beyond me. It is humbling. And it gives me permission to be uncomfortable with my uncomfortableness with not knowing. And I am in a season of that. Actually, looking back I’ve been in that season awhile now. Good thing I am not in a rush to “get to the next thing.”

Layers of Seasons and Cycles

Though some mourn the departure of summer, I have noted a shift in my body with the cooling temperatures and dark morning wakings that is relief. As we in the northern hemisphere drop into longer nights and shorter days I have come home to myself (I wrote about this in my Substack post, noticing what i’m noticing.) Coming “home” in this season has many layers. One is to allow myself time to reflect on my circling through a larger life season as I move further into my Crone years. How does my deep sense of call align with the autumn of my life?

Layers of the Harvest Season

The energy of the harvest season can be filled with an urgency to bring in the abundance of summer before the deeper cold arrives. Before the fruits of the laboring plants wither and die assuring they make it to market or risk being “wasted.” In a natural plant cycle some fruits need to return to the Earth. Allowing apples to rot and not be quick to scoop them up and put them in the compost actually benefits the ecology of the Land—a natural composting. There is wisdom in this as I reflect on how I wish to be of benefit in the ecology of the community and Land and Earth I am still living on. To spend time listening…to see if there is something that needs to be composted in my life, if I simply need to rest, and/or engage in some other manner during this season.

So I am meandering into this season with curiosity, a need to let go of outcomes, a knowing My Mentor Grief will be walking along with me (because loss will surely be part of this journey,) and grateful for the beauty of where I call home for now.

For Your Reflection

• as the outdoor world goes through seasonal shifts, it can offer times of reflection in our own lives. perhaps you notice the scatter of leaves, shift in light, different selections of fruits and vegetables in the market and you might pause as memories are stirred. or you consider your own shifting world—perhaps a shift brought on by loss. what are you noticing this season? and how are you defining “season” as that may be multilayered and/or not align with Spring/Summer/Autumn/Winter?

• how do you feel when faced with “unknowns?” if it makes you uneasy, perhaps start by describing or “personifying” Unknown by giving it a color, shape, personality. then have a chat, write a letter or poem to “Unknown” and see where it takes you. i’ve found befriending what makes me uncomfortable is one way to explore what is underneath the initial feeling.

• what are you curious about these days? how do you broach curiosity? where has it led you in the past?

• one of my usual questions: where is Grief in your body, heart, life today? what conversation are you having with Grief?

• another usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others?

Book Recommendations

• grief is a sneaky bitch, An Uncensored Guide to Navigating Loss, 2024, by Lisa Keefauver, Grief Activist.

  First a bit of the book blurb: “When social worker Lisa Keefauver became a widow in 2011, she was alarmed to discover that even though 100 percent of us experience loss, we’re living in a grief illiterate world. In her work as a therapist, and in her search for help in the wake of her own loss, Keefauver began to see how the misguided stories we consume about grief lead to unnecessary suffering.”

  I recommend this book for a few reasons. First it combines personal narrative alongside professional experience. Lisa was widowed in her early 40’s and in navigating her Grief even as a therapist with years of experience, she realized the book she wanted was missing from the resources she needed to reference on her journey. Second, she wrote that reference book she wanted: short chapters based on current Grief therapeutics written in plain language that one can pop into. If you are grieving or coming alongside someone who is, you can pick a short section that looks appropriate and glean helpful information. Third, she references many of the sources I’ve read over the years, so it feels like bit like a “Cliff’s Notes” version of Grief information, but still offering the depth needed to navigate the waves of loss.

  Lisa was a guest on my favorite Grief podcast, Coffee, Grief and Gratitude a few months ago, titled “Show Up, Shut Up, and Listen” so you can listen to how the book came about and hear a bit of her story..

• Choosing Light, Transforming Grief through the Practice of Mindful Photography and Self-Reflection, 2024, by Jessica Thomas, LMFT, PhD. Here’s the blurb: “Mindful photography and self-reflection can be invaluable tools for grievers struggling to create meaning from loss. Learning to slow down, notice, create, and reflect inspires a sense of confidence, inner strength, gratitude, meaningful insight, and wisdom. Written for death and grief practitioners and educators as well as for those experiencing grief, Choosing Light teaches the Within and Without therapeutic method and how it can be transformative for individuals, groups, and communities. Guided steps and real-life exemplars guide readers through a healing journey to find authentic meaning and peace.”

  Yes, I mentioned this in my last newsletter, but since then I have read the book and attended a couple of Jessica’s webinars introducing the concepts.

  Jessica’s book is accessible for anyone on their Grief journey, not only “professionals.” Her directions for dropping into the “Within and Without” method are clear. If you have a phone camera available, you can engage in the process. It is more than that, of course. As someone who finds photography personally impactful in how I engage in the world, the value of using images to engage on another level with Grief and Loss made sense to me.

  Jessica’s work is based on her research, but her writing is warm and inviting and the stories tender. You can follow Jessica at Reflective Therapy to find out when she is offering webinars, book events, or to find out more about her work.

Between Two Kingdoms, A Memoir of a Life Interrupted, 2021, by Suleika Jaouad. I waited a long time to receive this from the library (and found it so impactful, will buy a copy for my personal collection.) It was so worth the wait. I began following Suleika on Substack (The Isolation Journals) several months ago and was curious about her story but was not that familiar. Click on the first link to read the book recap, please.

Why I am bringing this book to you is it took me by the shoulders and shook me hard. Yes, it deepened my compassion, but it was more than that. The “between two kingdoms” reference…when someone is signed out of treatment (usually cancer) with a “cure” or “remission” they are rarely (perhaps never) given any support on how to reenter a world that has moved on while they were in treatment. They are between the “kingdom of the sick” and the “kingdom of the well.”

Undergoing invasive treatment alters one’s life in a myriad of ways. It alters one’s body that is impactful for the rest of their life. There are the emotional, spiritual and psychological impacts. Where does one go the share honestly about what it is like to no longer be considered “ill” but not feel “well,” especially in those first years when the body is still reeling from treatment? Often the rest of the one’s community has moved on and may want one to be “back to normal.” They may not understand the level of exhaustion. That one still needs to have regular medical check-ins. One’s sense of loss at losing a bonded community you had going through illness (infusion buddies, medical team, etc.)

Suleika was 22 and had just graduated from college when she was diagnosed with leukemia. Her writing reflects the impact of cancer on her life, her family, her new relationship, her friends. She shares how it feels to have friends moving forward with their lives while she undergoes treatment and all her mixed emotions around that. And once done with treatment, her exhaustion, frustration, and disorientation at not being able to reenter the kingdom of the well.

How she regained agency over her life was to take a 100-day journey around the USA by herself (that is the second half of the book.) One-hundred days because that was all her medical team would allow her to be gone between blood tests. But on her journey she connects with folks that had connected with her while she was in treatment. A story of gratitude.

If you know someone who has had (or is in the midst of) cancer treatment I can’t recommend this enough. I didn’t (and I worked as a chaplain and was exposed to a lot of “medical stuff”) understand the rigors of treatment and the after effects. I wish I had been better educated. Now I am and you can be too. A good book for exercising the empathy muscle.

Oh, and as an add on you can watch “American Symphony” on Netflix. Here’s the trailer.

Offerings

Spiritual Direction/Companionship:

Spiritual Companionship is the heart of my practice. I offer the gift of coming alongside and providing deep listening. This allows one to hear their own wisdom. Their own stories. To connect with their Source as they define and have experienced Mystery in their lives. To hold space to reflect on beliefs with curiosity without judgment. To be in the midst of their Grief & Loss and have someone simply be with them, taking time, all the time needed/desired to allow the journey to unfold. To celebrate joys. And more.

I meet with folks from diverse beliefs and spiritual backgrounds and practices. Different ages and genders. All are welcome.

• To find out more about my philosophy, background, training and “tools” that we can use in a session, check out my website. I follow the ethics of Spiritual Directors International., where I am a member.

• I have space available. I meet with folks in-person or via Zoom. Please reach out if you have questions about how a session might unfold.

• I always appreciate referrals!

Grief and Labyrinth Facilitation Events/Workshops by Request

I have offered workshops and retreats in a variety of settings over the years. Collaborating in community to journey with Grief and Loss is one of my passions. My canvas labyrinth is often part of these gatherings. In my experience when folks engage with the labyrinth, a conversation about Grief opens up. I have two private events scheduled for the fall. Please reach out if you are interested in a gathering.

Odds & Ends

• Way back in February I was one of the five readers for Coffee Talk, hosted by the Coffee and Grief Community. The recording of this Coffee Talk was on the Coffee Grief and Gratitude podcast in August. If you are inclined, click the link to have a listen. As always, it was/is a heart balm.

• Okay, a bit of self-promotion. If you like my writing (and haven’t already) I’m going to encourage you to follow me (or better yet “subscribe”) to “following dandelion seeds” on Substack as that is where I do my writing these days (except this quarterly newsletter.) My words and photos will still arrive in your email, so you don’t have to download the Substack app unless you want to.

• And just a heads up since this will be my last newsletter before the Winter Solstice. If you live in the Portland area, I am once again taking part in (and helping plan) a Longest Night Grief related event on Saturday, December 21st. It will take place at Waverly United Church of Christ in the evening. I’ll post details closer to the time on my Facebook Page. This will be my fourth year taking part and it really is a tender time.

Final Thoughts

Writing and editing my newsletter is a mulit-day process (and still typos!) The last couple of afternoons I’ll glance out my office window and witness Stellar’s Jay bouncing from limb-to-limb on Maple outside my window, tugging at, what, bugs? Moss? I can’t tell what he is up to as he ducks and weaves behind leaves, green leaves not yet ready to change. But they will soon enough. I suppose they couldn’t resist change, even if they wanted too. A lesson in there, if I’m not being too obvious.

Oaks are shifting toward yellow and Dogwood has gone red. All in their own time and yet I sense they are all in conversation. They are a community and when I venture out of this space filled with books and photos and walk among them, that too is home, where my feet wander upon the Land, curious to see where this season leads.

Please take a moment to let me know how you are being and where your curiosity is sending you these days.

as always, grateful for your accompanying me on this journey,

anne

Hello Dear Ones,

Spring was on the horizon when I last checked in and now the Summer Solstice is here and the Strawberry Full Moon will rise low in the sky tomorrow evening. The Japanese Cherry blossoms that dazzled in April are a mere memory, as are the pink delights of Dogwoods’ bracts. Rhododendrons and Peonies, always up to the astonishment challenge, too have faded. Fortunately an array of Roses have stepped in, scenting the air with both spicy and sweet aromatics. And my lips are stained red with Farmers’ Market bounty of Strawberries, Cherries, and Raspberries. We have crossed over into a most delicious time of year.

Season of Beauty After the Storm

The serious ice and wind storm of January (see Grief in the Aftermath of the Storm) with prolonged sub-zero temps and fallen trees has been followed by dry weather, though the scattering of typical Pacific NW drizzle and occasional downpours make me forget we are below rainfall averages for our region of the country. Has this led to the abundance from the flowering flora in the region? Plants that paused or were “less showy” last Spring have been boldly front and center this year. I am not the only one who has noticed. Was it due to the “unusual” weather? What transpired between the years? I want to follow through with a metaphor about Nature and Resilience. Or Joy amid Grief. Something in the collective Earth consciousness reaching out to wake us up. Asking for our awareness. I want to weave a storyline that may or may not apply. Perhaps, for once, I can simply let it be. Soak in Beauty.

Daily Wonder & Awe Practice

Two pairs of House Finches visit the birdbaths I have on my new deck. Watching them invites a daily offering of Wonder & Awe, something I try to start every day with, for as poet and essayist, Aimee Nezhukamentathil says, “When wonder is a practice, you feel less alone.” Perhaps those in the grip of the documented epidemic of loneliness in our country would benefit from a daily dose of Wonder & Awe?

Importance of Connection

Wonder & Awe connects us to a Community of Beings (human and other) beyond ourselves. A dear friend and I saw Aimee speak in April as part of Portland Arts & Lecture Series. A delightful evening. You can listen to her uplifting talk on this podcast link. And here is the link to the YouTube video she mentions: Pebble Toad Rollover.

The Gentleness of Curiosity

Another take away from the evening: curiosity. Something I wholeheartedly embrace. She asked us to consider this question: Everyday ask yourself: what are five things on the planet you are curious about? Even when I’m feeling boggy and down, if I can slip into a curious state of mind, I can be gentler with myself.

When Grief Overwhelms

Wonder & Awe. Beauty. Curiosity. For me these are ballasts in a world where an “even keel” is never a guarantee. This world can feel overwhelming. Grief, whether you see Grief as a mentor like I do, as an unwelcome reminder of loss and heartache, or a myriad of other ways you welcome or turn away from Grief, it can swamp us at times. Ballasts can keep us afloat in rough waters, even if the waters don’t calm.

To Pause With Intention

That “stand still” moment of Solstice (Summer or Winter depending on your hemisphere) will have occurred by the time you read this. A moment to pause before the days shorten or lengthen. Summer trends toward a frenzy of activity. To pause amid the frenetic energy calls for more intention. Morning moments to invite in Wonder & Awe will continue to be part of my waking practice. What feels like an meaningful morning and/or evening practice for you?

For Your Reflection

• where are you noticing Wonder& Awe? Beauty? and if you aren’t, that’s okay. be gentle with yourself. maybe tomorrow. or next week. no hurry. never a hurry. or perhaps you have a different perspective on Wonder/Awe/Beauty and this doesn’t resonate at all. that’s okay.

• what are your ballasts (something that offers stability) when the waters of life are rough? overwhelming?

• is there something in your life (for example a plant or maybe a part of yourself) that seemed paused or lifeless, and then has reemerged? blossomed even? what has the reemerging meant to you?

• if you want, try this: “Everyday ask yourself: what are five things on the planet you are curious about?”

• where is Grief in your body, heart, life today? what conversation are you having with Grief?

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others?

Spiritual Direction/Companionship

Spiritual Companionship is the heart of my practice. I offer the gift of coming alongside and providing deep listening. This allows one to hear their own wisdom. Their own stories. To connect with their Source as they define and have experienced Mystery in their lives. To hold space to reflect on beliefs with curiosity without judgment. To be in the midst of their Grief & Loss and have someone simply be with them, taking time, all the time needed/desired to allow the journey to unfold. To celebrate joys. And more.

I meet with folks from diverse beliefs and spiritual backgrounds and practices. Different ages and genders. All are welcome.

• To find out more about my philosophy, background, training and “tools” that we can use in a session, check out my website. I follow the ethics of Spiritual Directors International., where I am a member.

• I have space available. I meet with folks in-person or via Zoom. Please reach out if you have questions about how a session might unfold.

• I always appreciate referrals!

Books, Articles, and Podcast Recommendations

First, a warning (lol,) I read and listen to some intense books and podcasts. (This on top of webinars for training.) I’m am an admitted Grief Geek. I am also curious about a lot of things. Some of what I delve into is to support my call in working with those who are grieving. To reflect on the midlife and elderhood journey. Healthcare, end-of-life, and death is also of particular interest. And a lot more. I do read and listen to stuff that makes me laugh too. I’m not all about the “intense!” With that said, these selections may appeal to some of you (perhaps if you work in healthcare or know someone who has a chronic illness or has been diagnosed with cancer or dementia.) Others may feel more personal. To keep this from being too long, I will link to the publisher info for the books. These are recent reads/listens and, dang, could have been even longer!

• How to Visit the Personal Care Home. by Ann Green in Intima, A Journal of Narrative Medicine. A daughter’s story of taking her mother, who has dementia, out for lunch.

• Intervals by Marianne Brooker (note: I ordered the UK edition from Fitcarraldo Editions, 2024. It will be released in the US in September.) This is combination memoir and research on care for those with chronic illness and intractable pain. Written by a daughter as she comes alongside her mother and her choice to do VSED (Voluntarily Stopping Eating & Drinking,) it was a difficult but (for me) necessary read on a difficult topic. I wrote notes and questions in the margins….and yes, cried. I need to reread.

• Chronic Pain is Psychedelic. Sophie Strand on Substack. June 12. Sophie writes about Chronic pain so powerfully. This is a short read. If you know anyone who lives with chronic pain, it might offer a doorway into their experience.

• The Undying, Pain, vulnerability, mortality, medicine, art, time, dreams, data, exhaustion, cancer, and care. by Anne Boyer. (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2020) Intervals led me to Anne Boyer’s book, which chronicles her breast cancer treatment after she is diagnosed with the highly aggressive triple-negative breast cancer. Her treatise on cancer care is eye opening. And the energy it takes to navigate the health “care” system when one is a single mother living paycheck-to-paycheck is harrowing. Again, a balance of memoir and research.

• The Year of Magical Thinking, by Joan Didion (Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 2005.) I am late to the party on this acclaimed book about Joan Didion’s year of navigating loss after her husband’s death New Year’s Eve 2003. It is sometimes said that the second year after a loved one dies is harder than the first and toward the end of the book, the author noted that all year she has been able to associate a date with “this time last year we…” (she was meticulous in keeping her date book.) As the calendar approached a new year, she realized all those associations would “disappear.” That was an “aha” moment for me.

• Choosing Light, Transforming Grief through the Practice of Mindful Photography and Self-Reflection. Dr. Jessica Thomas. (Rowman & Littlefield, 2024.) Ok, confession. I haven’t read this yet, just pre-ordered. I have heard Jessica present on the topic and trust this will be an insightful and beneficial book for both professionals and individuals. Plus I enjoy photography and can see how using my own photos for reflecting on my journey will be an added layer to my own “work.”

• Podcast “The Sum of Us.” A friend recommended this 2022 podcast and I’m so glad I took her advice and listened to the whole series. Though the subject matter is not “easy,” it left me feeling uplifted. Here is the summary: “On the heels of her bestselling book, Heather McGhee embarks on a road trip across Covid-era America, unearthing stories of American solidarity and hope in a time of great division and peril for our democracy. Join Heather as she travels from rural Maine to the California coast and everywhere in between, meeting extraordinary Americans who are crossing demographic, cultural, and political lines to build a better future for all of us.”

  If you have a book, podcast or article you want to pass along to add to my TBR and TBLT (to be read & to be listened to,) I always appreciate suggestions!

Final Thoughts

I realized I preferred blogging over on my Substack, “following dandelion seeds” publication to this format (in case you wondered where I’ve been hanging out since my last newsletter.) It is easier to navigate! I hope you will subscribe. The blog will still arrive in your email, so you don’t have to download the Substack app unless you want to. And I will still do a quarterly newsletter and make any announcements of upcoming events through this Squarespace email format.

***********

Do you get that feeling sometimes that life is shifting again? Not sure what is up, but just an awareness. Part of that nudge might have been when, after I was almost settled in my new abode just after the four month mark, I had to move again! That story is in this Substack post: Crows, Rivers & clarity (or not).

That is where I am these days. Paying attention and, even with the boisterous energy of summer arriving, allowing time to “pause.” It may be as simple making sure I am in alignment with my call. Checking in to see what needs to be set aside. And, confession here, when I slow down to listen I can get antsy. Impatient. So sitting with that and allowing it to be.

So, as always, ever so grateful for your patience and being with me on the journey. Please reach out with your reflections and to let me know how you are being.

anne

Faded Reminders of Four Years Ago

As Winter merges into Spring in the Pacific NW, I look at entrances to shops and see faded reminders from four years ago to stand “six-feet apart.” Painted flowers. Foot prints. Circles indicating “6’". Whatever the store thought would be helpful to remind folks to stay separated. Yes, the four year anniversary of the pandemic is close-at-hand. So many shifts in four years!

Perhaps like me your camera roll likes to offer memories, the “before photos,” where we were gathered at sardine-packed events unaware we were likely “at risk.” Then came the “after.” The impromptu masks…scarves wrapped loosely around faces, YouTube videos showing us how to make a mask from old t-shirts, folks digging through piles of material making free masks for healthcare workers, trying to fill a need…weak attempts at protection until we could buy something we thought was better…or at least more comfortable. Hand sanitizer at every doorway and checkout counter. Constant reminders to “wash your hands and not touch your face.” Washing groceries and placing mail in ziplock bags for a day or two (remember that!) And all the closures. The wide berths when walking. The lack of hugs. And ZOOM! Suddenly everything moved to Zoom.

I’m feeling overwhelmed just writing this. What is coming up for you? And I feel relieved to be eons beyond those early uncertain days. I learned a lot about coping with uncertainty, though sometimes I forget. The Mary Oliver poem, The Uses of Sorrow, comes to mind when I “think” I have to have it all sorted out already.

“Gift” of the Zoom Room

And Zoom. At first the Zoom room was awkward. What is the etiquette? Camera off or on. “Hey, please “mute” when you are eating!” “Your cat is so cute!” Now, four years later, despite some drawbacks Zoom has expanded our ways of connecting and can be used as a hybrid. I’ve been able to attend education, readings, and general curiosity events in places far afield that would never have been accessible before the pandemic. I never considered meeting with directees via Zoom, but now I regularly do.

So Zoom for everything…nah. I need to be “in the room” with folks and am grateful for the in-person events that have restarted. But am also grateful for those that continue to have a life on Zoom (or other similar platforms) that makes meeting accessible on many levels to many folks.

No, It Is Not About “Getting Back To Normal”

Of course while the pandemic is “officially” over globally, we still have COVID-19 in its variant du jour on world tour. I know a few folks who have not “had it” yet, but most have had at least a mild case (I did in late August.) There are those who have the lingering effects of long-COVID, a chronic condition. Many of these folks feel forgotten amid our culture’s desire to “move along.”

“Move along." “Get back to ‘normal.’” “Look how our economy’s productivity is back up and humming along.” I hear phrases like these and sigh. Oh, I’m guessing there will be some articles about “remembering” those early days of the pandemic. A few photos of New York City, the epicenter where hospitals and funeral homes were overwhelmed, will be shared. Talk about how families couldn’t be with their loved ones at the time of death or attend memorial services. We will dust off our collective amnesia for a few minutes and feel, what, relief?, that those days are “long gone.”

Collective Grief

But the depth of the losses spanning the last four years is immense. The collective Grief still to be done in community…I sense it has been overshadowed by our society’s pattern of “getting over” loss and moving on. Here are some thoughts for you to consider:

• Who do you know who has been personally touched by the death of someone from COVID-19? Or long-COVID? You perhaps?

• When did it occur during the past four years (or even prior to March 2020, before there was a name for it)?

• How has that loss been talk about?

• Do you know someone who worked in healthcare or funeral services during the height of all the uncertainty (Or another essential service I didn’t list)? Do you know how they are doing/being? How has COVID-19 affected their lives? Where is it safe to share their stories?

• What about other losses and deaths not directly related to COVID-19 that went unrecognized, such as chronic and serious illnesses diagnosed during the pandemic, cancer and other illness deaths, accidents, suicides and violent deaths, loss of jobs and businesses, homes, etc.? Where were folks allowed to go with this Grief amid the focus on COVID-19?

  I’m sure you can think of more as the list is close to inexhaustible. (And see how I slipped in the reflection questions this time.) Please reach out if you would like to share.

Where is Your Grief Today?

As the anniversaries come around, news stories pop up, and your own personal photos scamper across your screen, stop for more than a moment. Check in with yourself. Your heart. Where’s your Grief in the canvas of COVID-19? It has touched us all. What does Grief want to say to you? How can you be aware of others moving forward in the days and weeks ahead? It may be they lost a loved one or witnessed the death of someone’s loved one and their body is remembering.

Be kind. Be kind. Be kind.

To yourself. To yourself. To yourself…and to others, everyone, every being.

Resources

• Dougy Center, The National Grief Center for Children and Families, has activity books specifically for children and teens grieving after a death from COVID-19. These are free, downloadable and are available in English and Spanish. There is also a link of additional resources related to all deaths after COVID-19 which includes tip sheets, episodes from their Grief Out Loud podcast and more.

  Besides COVID-19 resources, the Dougy Center has a multitude of resources for grieving children, teens, YOUNG ADULTS (a population that can fall through the cracks) and families needing support. Please check them out.

• One place folks have found where they can share their stories of loss began during the earliest days of the pandemic: Coffee and Grief Community’s, Coffee Talk. My friend Anne Gudger and her daughter, Maria Gibson listened to their wise intuition and said, “Folks will have stories about Grief around this and will need a place meet and listen to others’ stories.” (Okay, my paraphrase.) It went from a bi-weekly Zoom event to monthly and the Grief stories have now expanded far beyond the pandemic and even gave birth to a podcast: Coffee, Grief, and Gratitude.

  Always a heart balm, Coffee Talk is the first Thursday of the month at 7pm PT. I usually post the registration information on my Nurture Your Journey FB page…or your can contact me directly for a reminder.

  This week was a special Coffee Talk in that is featured five readers whose work was included in the anthology, Hindsight: Untold Stories from 2020. So tender. Lest you think all stories from that time are devastating or full of sorrow, there are stories of hope and joy, too. Here is the link to the recording. It is less than an hour and so worth a listen.

Reading Recommendations

I’ve been reading a “series” from last to first (not intentionally, but oh well.) A friend recommended Landlines, The Remarkable Story of a Thousand-Mile Journey Across Britain by Raynor Winn. It is a memoir about a couple who walked across the UK. By “walk” I mean wild camping, enduring rain, midges, heat, blisters, etc. And it is more than that because the author’s husband, Moth, has an advanced serious illness, corticobasal degeneration (CBD). At the start of the book he can hardly walk and appears to be declining quickly. There are so many kinds of Grief and loss woven into the story… anticipatory Grief, ambiguous loss, Grief for the environment. The writing is beautiful. And some of their walk overlapped places I went on my own sojourns in 2019 and 2022, so I did feel a special sense of connection.

Complex Losses

Landlines was Winn’s third book. The first was The Salt Path, which starts when they are evicted from their home not soon after her husband’s diagnoses and are homeless. The second was The Wild Silence. I was so enthralled by Landlines I quickly put her other two hold at my library and The Wild Silence came in first. It is the middle book and opens around the decline, then death of the author’s mother and looks at the complexity of their relationship while struggling with her own husband’s terminal diagnosis. Yeah, I go for the light stuff. But remember, this is book two and they go on that long walk…

I’m waiting for The Salt Path. And all that walking and being outdoors. It helps with his CBD (just to leave you on a hopeful note.)

We All Experience Loss

I do tend toward Grief related memoirs (I have a couple of more in the queue.) I read these in hope that I will have, if not a deeper understanding of another’s journey, at least a glimmer of what another may be going through. To listen in on how folks navigate different losses, be they complex relationships, chronic illness, loss of a home, adoption, immigration, and belonging. And more.

I have my own experiences of loss as do you. To come alongside one another is to listen deeply, to tap into our own experiences, not to assume it is the same as the person we are listening to, but to build our empathetic muscle. To be able to wander alongside one another in the land of Grief without having to fix each other.

Thank You

As I often mention, the “heart” of my practice is Spiritual Direction/Companionship. I want to say thank you for those of you who have sent referrals my way since the first of the year. I am deeply appreciative.

As a reminder I meet folks in-person or over Zoom. I have room in my schedule and am open to chat if you are curious to find out more. It is always an honor to come alongside folks on their journey, whether it be to hold space for their Grief or reflect on their spiritual path.

If you click over to my website, you can find out more about my background and other services I provide.

In Memoriam

One of my mentors and my chaplain clinical supervisor, Horace Duke, DMin, died March 6. He was one of the best. A spark in the world and a powerhouse of a man. He would say he was a “wise fool.”

Chaplaincy training to become board certified includes CPE (clinical pastoral training) under the guidance of a certified supervisor. Training includes 50% practicum, 25% education (for example: family systems, ethics, death and dying, concepts of different religions and spiritual beliefs,) and 25% working on your own “stuff.” Horace had years of experience and was didn’t not let one off the hook about getting to the core of their stuff, all in service of being a safer presence when they were supporting patients and staff…and for our own spiritual and personal growth. Was it hard? Yup. I likely used up a pallet’s worth of tissue in his office and in our group sessions! And I am so, so grateful for the two years I was under his tutelage.

We remained connected after I left the Portland VA in 2009 via email and he always had kind words to say about my work.

He trained hundreds of chaplains who continue to carry on his legacy. I know I carry his legacy on in my work. I lit a candle and raised a cup of tea in his honor—a small ritual to say “thank you, Horace.”

Final Thoughts

You might notice I’m not sending out as many posts. Most of my writing time is spent on following dandelion seeds, my Substack page. Though the focus wasn’t going to be Grief…well my Mentor Grief seems to insert it’s way in there somehow. However, following dandelion seeds doesn’t focus on the professional aspects of my work. Instead I reflect on what is stirring my curiosity, which might be what I’m reading, other Substacks, podcasts, movies…and life in general. I welcome new subscribers.

Tuning Into Cycles

This weekend the clocks will once again switch…jumping forward an hour where I live. My body doesn’t like playing with time arbitrarily…always takes me a week or two to adjust. At least the mornings will be dark again. The chill of Winter brushing against my skin when I go out for my swim. And the new Moon is Sunday. I find the more I tune into her cycles, the more I tune into my own body.

May you tune into your own self. Your heart. Your Grief. Your Joy…yes your Joy.

Tune Into Joy

I want to leave you with something lovely, so please click over to poet Andrea Gibson’s Substack, Things That Don’t Suck, and hear her recite (and you can read it too) her poem “The Birds Wrote Me A Poem.” Here is a taste:

“Why stay in bed when you could be high-fiving the sunrise? Human awe is an endangered species. Do not let your astonishment go extinct.”

in deep gratitude for you,

anne

Welcome to the Storm Edition Dear Ones,

I began writing this Thursday, January 18th before I lost power a second time due to the storms in the Pacific NW. Instead of rewriting in the present tense, I’m going to leave the opening as is: “A cold spell is caressing the Pacific NW like hands just pulled from a freezer. I’m finding it difficult to string more than five words together as a malaise has settled into my bones. This Arctic Traveler didn’t followed the forecast and leave town on the scheduled flight yesterday and is lingering, unwelcome. The trees that thawed briefly are once again coated in a veneer of ice. A Hummingbird returns time and time again to the Rhododendron outside my window and sits for minutes, shivering. I can see the small heart beating, trying to maintain heat. Someone must be maintaining a feeder, for he does leave and return. Could I go out and cup him in my hands? Would that help?

“On Saturday the wind blew with such passion that I witnessed birds flying stationary in the sky simply to stay aloft. In my old neighborhood, four elder Firs decimated a friend’s home (no human was injured.) So my losing power for 52 hours seemed a minor inconvenience compared to many, especially since I had somewhere to go that was warm. Safe

“I have lived in this region of the world my entire life except my first four years. I have experienced ice and wind storms. Floods, wildfires, heat domes. Long stretches of gray, rainy days. Blue sky days, too. The Land has been thirsty…and had its thirst quenched. It has given with abundance and withheld its fruits. It comes with a mix of beauty and loss. Enchantment and practicality. The older I get…and as I inhabit my elderhood more comfortably, the more I understand I am not in charge. The more deeply I listen to the Land and the Beings of this place for their wisdom, the more willing I am to sit with the ordinary and the extraordinary. With sorrow and joy. To be with my own discomforts and not rush to alleviate pain. May I allow the entangledness of this life keep me messy and curious.”

After the Storm: Gratitude

The second power outage was 24 hours, but as I pick this thread back up, my internet is still out. I have arrived at the North Oregon Coast for my now annual winter retreat, so I will post this blog before signing off to rest and contemplate. I am beyond grateful that temperatures have warmed, the breeze is gentle, and roads are clear.

After the Storm: Noticing Cycles

Yesterday I surveyed damage in the area. Roadways, roof tops, and landscapes were covered with needles thick as a shag carpet. Large limbs and fallen elder Firs were being removed from roads and homes. Whole landscapes have been shifted. Light will shine in where shade once hosted hostas and ferns. The cycle of death, decay, and new life under the carpet of needles is already in process, though I suspect our society’s seeming need to remove all trace of storms as quickly as possible will truncate this natural process with a storm of loud leaf blowers out in force soon enough. Though we are becoming more Grief Informed, this is often how we cope with Grief and Loss in our Western Culture…remove all outward traces lest we be reminded of the storm.

After the Storm: Honoring What Remains

I appreciate that my friend, whose house had the four elder Firs come down on it, wants part of a remaining fifth tree that needs to come down due to extensive damage, left as a snag if possible. And perhaps a nurse log for her naturescape from some of the remaining wood. She wants to honor these elders.

How can we look at these storms not only as disruptions in our lives (and her and family’s life has been severely disrupted) but as a way to engage with these events as our being part of nature, not apart from nature. Because we are a part of nature. (To honor all the elder Firs and Pines that came down in the storm, I suggest listening to Loreena McKennitt’s Ancient Pines.)

So lots going on in my still storm foggy brain (acknowledging typos, and I already realize there was more I was going to say but letting that go.) The Robins that scrounged for food in the bare patches out back persevered in the cold, their red-orange breasts dancing dots of joy amid a frozen cloth of ice. The absence of Crows during the coldest days (where did they go?) still baffles me. And that Hummingbird... Loss, Grief, Laments.

What storms are whirling around you…inner and/or outer? Whatever the weather where you are, I hope you are safe and nourished.

in deepest gratitude,

anne

For Your Reflection

• what storms are whirling around you…inner and/or outer? what do you notice when difficult times arise? what nurtures you when you are physically, emotionally, spiritually or otherwise in a situation you have little or no control over?

• i’ve noticed a lot of chaotic energy around me recently…even before the storm, but the storm intensified it. when i get caught up in it, i get unsteady in an unhealthy way. so once i notice i can “recalibrate.” how about you? do you notice when it feels chaotic around you? how does that energy effect you? what are ways that help you recalibrate?

• have you noticed a new loss or an old loss stirring in these winter months? winter is the anniversary of both my parent’s deaths, so i remind myself to be extra tender with my heart this time of year. how are you treating your Grief these days? i’m reminded of this poem:

  • Talking to Grief

    by Denise Levertov

    Ah, Grief, I should not treat you

    like a homeless dog

    who comes to the back door

    for a crust, for a meatless bone.

    I should trust you.

    I should coax you

    into the house and give you

    your own corner,

    a worn mat to lie on,

    your own water dish.

    You think I don't know you've been living

    under my porch.

    You long for your real place to be readied

    before winter comes. You need

    your name,

    your collar and tag. You need

    the right to warn off intruders,

    to consider

    my house your own

    and me your person

    and yourself

    my own dog.

  • what do you notice when you read this poem? what conversation are you and Grief having these days (remember, no judgment, just be curious.)

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others?

Movie Review-ish

A couple of weeks ago, just before lights went out and internet disappeared, I watched “Good Grief” on Netflix. As Grief movies go, I give it a thumbs up. Complex relationships. A few plot twists. It showed close friends of the person who was grieving trying to fix their uncomfortableness. (“It’s been six months. You need to start dating!” And yes, when I was working in hospice and helping with bereavement, I had a widow who was married for 40 years have friends suggest this to her.) It avoided tropes and “stages of grief” language. It was messy. And these folk were in their mid to late 30s, a “grief group” that isn’t always addressed.

Sure, these people had money, so the loss of home and financial security issues were removed. It was a movie after all. And as someone in her crone years, I had to remind myself that folks the age these characters are, are still sorting out who they are in the first half of life. (Why are they doing that? Oh right, I didn’t have much sorted when I was that age either!) Plus, as the movie unfolds, we come to realize there isn’t just one loss to grieve. Like I said, messy and complex. A bit of a bow on it at the end, but not too tidy.

If you watch it, let me know what you think.

Upcoming Event

Oh lucky me! I am honored to be one of the readers on Feb 2nd at Coffee and Grief Community’s Coffee Talk #55. (That’s a Thursday evening, 7pm PT.) There will be five fabulous readers (I personally know two of the others who are both gems, but they will all be awesome because it always is!) Do I know what I’m reading yet? Uh, well, words in my head need to get written, but by next week it will be done. Please join us for some heart balm. Here’s the link to register:

Coffee Talk #55

Final Thoughts

In early January in lieu of resolutions, I sit and select a combination of a poem, perhaps a word, animal, or something outside of my usual frame of reference that might guide me for the year ahead. This year paradoxes have come to mind, along with Owl, a poem by William Stafford, Being A Person and two cards from my Weavers’ Oracle, Journey Cards & Travel Guide (Owl and Ochre) by Carolyn Hillyer.

The paradoxes: Expand & Contract. Simplify & Entangle. Plus allowing for the descent. Being with Death, Grief, Bereavement, Lament, New Birth. It is my call and where I feel comfortable, even in my discomfort. That is why I am able to sit with folks in their Grief, even if I didn’t realize it would be the thread of my life when I was young. It is always an honor.

Have you thought about what your thread is? And do you start your year with a ritual? If you want to share with me, I’m curious to hear how other folks approach the threshold of a new year.

Oh, and a reminder, I’m posting almost weekly on my Substack, following dandelion seeds. Sure, Grief is often threaded into those posts, but my pondering is broader…often pushing my own comfort zone. So if you are interested, it is a free subscription.

As always, if you like, please let me know how you are being.

Welcome to Winter Dear Ones,

Puddles grow by the hour and rivers swell to capacity. LED headlights penetrate my windshield, streaking the rain into mini-star bursts and I wonder if I have reached that age where driving at night will soon be out of reach. Perhaps it is the sign I need as Winter veils us in a wet cloak to draw the blinds and stay in these long, dark evenings.

Late autumn in the Pacific NW was cool and delightfully clear. The deciduous trees displayed a spectacular array of reds, golds, and oranges that many locals commented had been absent in recent years. Moon set as Sun rose with equally colorful displays morning after morning. Now Winter has blustered in erasing the last of the leaves and rain is, as they say, blanketing the region. We need the rain, so I am okay with rain and gray. Just not these blue-hued headlights with their aim to illuminate the roads to daylight intensity staring me down in a game of chicken. New wiper blades helped but still…

I read an article from 2021 in the New York Times, “Blinded by Brighter Headlights? It’s Not Your Imagination” and found out it isn’t an aging thing—not that along with the gifts of aging, there aren’t losses I am grieving—but hallelujah, this isn’t one of them. Per the article, “Advances in lighting technology have improved nighttime driving for many, but the introduction of brighter lights that also sit higher on S.U.V.s and pickups has given rise to widespread criticism that headlights have become overpoweringly intense.” So is seems we have an unintended consequence to the overzealous application of a worthwhile safety technology. AND, because I want to bring this back around to Winter and how it used to be a season of rest and restoration, these new technologies keep our society humming along on a 24/7, 365 days-a-year cycle. Appropriate in a hospital setting perhaps, though if you have ever worked in a hospital, you will notice even there it hushes in the evening hours. So an unintended (or to keep us moving along and being “productive,” maybe not so unintended) consequence of our illuminating technologies, is we have lost the natural rhythm of “wintering.”

I know, I’ve written about this every year around this time. In 2021 is was Lessons from the Pandemic: Invitations of Winter & Grief. This deep desire to allow Winter to winter me. In her chapter on December in Wintering, The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, Katherine May says, “More than any other season, winter requires a kind of metronome that ticks away its darkest beats, giving us a melody to follow into spring. The year will move on no matter what, but by paying attention to it, feeling its beat, and noticing the moments of transition—perhaps even taking time to think about what we want from the next phase of the year—we can get the measure of it.” (pg 115-16) If I drop the word “grief” in, that feels appropriate as a season too…though I see Grief in broader terms also.

I usually drop into Winter stillness with some ease. Ready for the quiet of the season. My recent move with all the unpacking (literal and metaphorical) has shifted routines. My sense of place. How I engage with the world. I can tell you, this is unsettling and necessary. And how I yearn to be able to sit in the quiet.

So I stop and take a breath. Drop back into journaling (that fell by the wayside during my move.) Release my need to get ABSOLUTELY everything taken care of around my new home. (I’m a wee bit obsessive about getting stuff on my walls.) Say “no” to what doesn’t nourish me. Say “yes” to listening to other wise teachers and guides as they share about how they are entering into Winter. Sharon Blackie in her Substack, The Art of Enchantment, shared how she takes approximately two weeks off around Winter Solstice, including no email or internet. Here is a portion of her reflection:

And again from Katherine May, another gem on winter:

“Winter has always been an ambiguous time; it’s just that nowadays, we try to paper over the cracks. The dark final days of the year are full of ambiguity and doubt. Who will I be in the year to come? Who was I this year? What on earth should I do about this runaway world, whose myriad sufferings haunt the shadows of December nights?" The Clearing, For Your Stray Attention, Substack, 12/2/23

We live in a world that prefers certainty to ambiguity. Bright illuminating lights to shadows. Action instead of waiting. Forgo resting in the question without needing an answer…because there isn’t often one.

Perhaps the dark of winter brings to light the intensity of our losses. Grief, our shadow friend (you may not say “friend”…that’s okay), is more present. So the more we cover the dark with light, the more we dim our losses. Oh those headlights! Or at least that is the Great Pretend.

I have some friends and family that are entering into this as “the season of first.” The first time without a beloved…human, fur family, or other deep loss. For some it is the “second” or even a further calendar distance and still sadness rises. The edges of darkness, of Winter, welcome the dance of sorrow. And our stumbles. And yearning. And howling that may even turn to laughter. It is all welcome. And it can be done in community. See, the ancients build fires to gather around during these dark cold times. Knew we did not need to grieve alone. Knew we could travel to the edges and come back.

It is an invitation to balance these ever more isolating times (re: our epidemic of loneliness) in these wintering seasons when the urge is to stay in and yet find ways to gather. Your community connections may be work, or school, a book club, volunteer organization, etc. And you may want to restrict going out on dark nights or even limit daytime commitments. Want to stay in. To respect the natural rhythm of your body to nest and rest.

If you have children, how can you encourage them to listen to the seasons, especially if they have crowded schedules? No easy way to be with this. And for me, there is some Grief. Yes, my mentor Grief is tapping me on the shoulder, saying, “How can you listen to the wisdom of this season, if you don’t take time to ‘die' like Earth does?” Could I step away from email and the internet for two weeks? One week? How about you?

As an aside: the last few months have been intense (beside moving). The We Will Dance With Mountains: Vunja! gatherings have been an amazing experience (there are two more before we wrap up.) There is a lot stirring, swirling around. Gestating. I need time to allow for the wise teachings to rest in the deep soil of my Winter body. I’m not sure what transformation will look like.

For now I will accept my own invitation and settle into Winter. Read. Journal. Sleep. Continue to write my almost weekly Substack, following dandelion seeds, which ponders what is stirring within and engages what is going on out in world. I would be grateful if you subscribed as it is separate from this post…but no pressure (okay, maybe a little.)

Oh, and one offering I’m helping to coordinate if you are local to Portland, Oregon: A Longest Night gathering: Layers of Community, Layers of Grief. December 21st, 7-8:30pm at Waverly United Church of Christ, 3300 SE Woodward, Portland, OR. I’ll be tending the labyrinth. I’ll post more on my Nurture Your Journey Facebook page as the event gets closer, or email me for more details.

Please be extra kind and gentle with yourself…and to others as these Winter holidays continue to unfold around us.

with deepest gratitude,

anne

PS-if you live in the Southern Hemisphere, first I want to acknowledge how Northern Hemisphere-centric this blog is! I do know there is half a world that is experiencing the seasons differently. For that matter, living where I do, the seasons are quite distinct. If I lived closer to the equator or poles, seasons would look different…so just acknowledging experiential bias. Anyway, how does the approaching Summer Solstice and days of ample light and less dark affect your engagement with Grief?

For Your Reflection

• what does “wintering” look like to you? do you find yourself staying in more…or at least yearning to? are there items you can trim from your schedule to create more rest and nest time? i’m planning on trimming a day off my bi-weekly evening Rambles. it is a difficult call as that is also an important community connection.

• who or what are you mourning this holiday season? how do you want to honor that loss? below are links to some resources.

• what needs time to gestate in you this winter season? remember, no rush.

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others?

Recommended Podcasts:

Francis Weller’s The Wild Edge of Sorrow, Rituals of Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief was/is a pivotal book in my walk with Grief. He writes about the Five Gates of Grief:

• The First Gate: Everything We Love, We Will Lose

• The Second Gate: The Places That Have Not Known Love

• The Third Gate: The Sorrows of the World

• The Fourth Gate: What We Expected and Did Not Receive

• The Fifth Gate: Ancestral Grief

I offer this as a lead in to recommending Coffee, Grief and Gratitude’s podcast episode #31, Grief as Portal with Ella DeCastro Baron where she weaves in the five gates as portals. Her story includes chronic illness and being first generation from an immigrant family…so many dances with Grief. Such deep wisdom in her role as a “Grief-Tender.”

And a Hidden Brain episode, Healing 2.0: Life After Loss, with Dr. Lucy Hone, whose book Resilient Grieving: How to Find Your Way Through Devastating Loss, shares how she coped after the loss of her daughter.

Resources for Holiday Grieving

Losses seem to be especially keen around the Winter holidays. News outlets, podcasts, and other social media offer tips about how to cope during the holidays…and you may not have the bandwidth to be tuning in. Here are a few quick links to help you whether you are the person in the midst of Grief and Loss or wondering how to support someone who is.

• Megan Divine (It’s Okay That You’re Not Okay) was on KATU’s AMNW five years ago talking about Dealing with Grief During the Holidays. Wise suggestions never age.

• The Dougy Center, The National Grief Center for Children & Families, has a “Tips for supporting kids and teens who are grieving during the winter holidays” that you can download. The tips are great even if you are navigating Grief without kiddos.

• Coping with Loss has a Guide to Surviving the Holidays While Grieving.

• Under my resources page I have a “prescription for honoring my grief.”

Most important is to be kind to yourself. Listen to what you need. Understand “no” is a complete answer. And it is okay to create new traditions, keep old ones, or mix them together.

Final thoughts

Several holiday traditions around this dark time of year reflect a bringing of light back into community. Words such as: Beacon. Return. Illuminate. Hope. are woven into the darkened landscape. A single candle as a guide. A full moon. A shining star.

The “standing still” of the longest day is not permanent. For some winter is difficult with its covering of dark. If this is you, seek out beacons of light: People and communities who radiate hope. Who can illuminate your sadness…not to fix you, but to offer a glow of light where your soul can rest. Find a community of care.

And you…are you someone’s light? We can be both the griever and the holder of someone else’s grieving hand. Dark and Light are companions. Just as Grief and Joy. Laughter and Sorrow. When we allow this dark season to enfold us. To hold us. To rest and nest, it allows for sleep and for dreams to emerge. Our own and those burrowed in the Winter landscape. Allow Winter to be with you…that is the invitation. See what dreams stir under the blankets of rest.

A Winter’s Song for your Dreams

Snow by Loreena McKennitt (on YouTube)

The Call to Deeper Rest

Next week we will cross from Autumn into earliest Winter. The darkening nights enfold me and I am grateful for the cool kiss of air that greets me when I wake. The call to deeper rest is not only during the earlier arrival of evenings, but in the low hanging sun in day-sky.

In many northern traditions, especially the Celtic ways I am most familiar with, this time of year is considered liminal. A time when the veil between worlds is particularly thin. (If you are curious, here is a short YouTube video from the National Museum of Ireland about Samhain, as it is called.) Yes, as in many things in our Western culture, it has been turned into an “holiday” to spend money on. Costumes. Decorations. Candy. Parties. And that can be a lot of fun. The neighborhood on my “Mazama Street Rambles” has homes that go all out. Oodles of creativity. And this year we will ramble on Halloween, so will see the kiddos out and about. Delightful.

Invitation to Notice

AND, over the next few weeks, I would invite you to stop. To drop into Slow Time. See what you notice as the veil thins. I believe the ancestors are always close, but they are even closer when Trees shed their leaves, Land readies for deep winter sleep, and our dream time extends into the crevices of decay.

Grief Threads Through Change

I am excited the anticipated move is finally upon me (the first weekend of November.) So this will be short as I try to fit this in between sorting, packing, panicking…and likely more than a few typos.

My Mentor Grief taps me on the shoulder on a regular basis. “Pay attention to what is stirring.” Many of the belongings I touch have meaning attached to them. And with that, there can be an associated reminder of loss. Grief…as well as Joy. So amid the excitement, threads of Grief are woven in. Some days I am so so tired. Does this resonate with moves you have made in your life? Does it found familiar?

There are two things I have in mass amounts: photos and books. I find the suggestion of “if it doesn’t bring you joy, let it go,” is just not working for me. Ha!

About the photos: When my kiddos were young, my former spouse and I took A LOT of pics. Back in the day when you had them developed. And then we would make duplicates for our families. Well, my mother’s copies have all come back to me. And other relatives, too. And I SWEAR some photos spontaneously duplicated in boxes. The idea of sorting and tossing became overwhelming. I informed my daughter (only half-joking) that they would be hers to deal with after I died. And before you suggest scanning (I have done that with a few) and tossing, there is something about holding a photo and reflecting on the experience it stirs. Objects have energy.

Being Kind to My Younger Self

Besides my grandparents and mothers pics, I have my own photos from high school and college. Square-format, yellowed, falling out of the dime-store albums. I looked at my younger self and admire her. She didn’t know about grieving, though there were certainly things to grieve in her family. So she coped by being an “achiever” and a “good girl.” She had dreams (I was going to be a lawyer!) Back in the day, we had a class in fall of our senior year where we wrote a letter to ourselves to be mailed out five years after graduation. I found it again plowing through boxes. Re-reading it was so interesting, I had to share it with my daughter.

So, yes, photos and memorabilia are stirring up sediment from the bottom of The Well of Grief. Especially photos of my father. Older photos of him as a young man. Or with my brother and me as kids. The smile that was on my mother’s face when she was beside him. The year before he died when, if I look closer, I swear I see his heart working, boom-boom, boom-boom to keep pumping. So many years ago. So many memories we didn’t share as time has passed…and yet in a way he is still here with me. Both/and. Dwelling in the thin place.

Slow Time Allows for Noticing

And then there are the books. Books on Grief. Spiritual Care. Trauma. Compassion. Memoirs. Writing. Environment/Nature. Poetry….so many books of poetry. And of course my friends’ beautiful books. And more. Sure, some I’ve donated. And as I unpack, I’ll likely whittle down a few more instead of placing them back on the shelf. But books feel like friends and I cherish both.

Amid the chaos and clutter, I have to remind myself to slip into Slow Time. The move will come and I will need to be out of one space and in another on prescribed dates, but Slow Time allows for me to honor where I am now. To notice the fuchsias that are trying to bloom one more time on my deck before the freeze arrives this weekend. A deck that has welcomed Dark-eyed juncos, Goldfinches, Black-capped Chick-a-dees, and the occasional Stellar’s jay over the years. To warn Squirrel to not hide their winter stash in the pots, for they will soon be gone.

Slow Time says, “Take your walks. Say goodbye to The Sisters and Crows and all the other Beings that have come alongside you while you have lived a full life on this wee parcel of Land.”

The Gift of Being Witnessed

This nest has held me for eight years. Through a divorce. The death of my beloved pug. Been with me through my mother’s final journey. A change in how I approach my “work” in the world. It has witnessed my deepening connection to Land and spirituality, pondering, and ability to sit with what is uncomfortable. Witnessed birth-death-rebirth. Love. It waited patiently while I made two sojourns. On my final day, I will walk through each room and offer gratitude, a blessing, and clear out any energy that doesn’t belong. Leave it fresh for the next nesters.

With every ending there is loss. Even ones that are anticipated with joy and relief. I look forward to my new space welcoming me and seeing what unfolds. I look forward to you accompanying on the journey. And if you have any blessings to send my way, they would be appreciated. Or any of your own moving stories to share…the grief, joy, mishaps, etc, I would be honored to receive them.

with deepest gratitude,

anne

ps: i’ve been writing an almost weekly Substack, following dandelion seeds, since mid-September. it expands beyond Grief. for example, i’ve been reflecting on “shelter” through a wider lens as i’ve been preparing to move. i would be ever so grateful if you would subscribe, but no pressure. those pieces are shorter and don’t have announcements of upcoming events or my other usual add-ons.

For Your Reflection

• for those in the northern hemisphere, as the nights grow longer, what invitations are you sensing? does the idea of dropping into “Slow Time” appeal to you? (i sometimes start a session with a directee with the invitation to drop into slow time. to step out of clock time. to slip into a between space.) does it feel almost impossible if your life is full of “to do” lists? places “to be?” if it appeals to you, how might you create micro moments of “Slow Time?”

• have you ever considered connecting with your ancestors? what might that looks like? if your personal family history has a lot of trauma, i’ve heard it suggested you go back to ancestors you don’t know family stories about. feel free to play with this and offer yourself a broad definition of “ancestor.” on Substack i’ve been writing how the Land wants to be in relationship with us, so perhaps that is a place to explore.

• as the “holidays” approach, Grief can often rise to the surface (so many expectations!) how might you use the idea of Slow Time to build in breaks and create a sense of ease and rest through what tends to be a busy time of year?

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others?

Podcast Recommendation

I’ve shared the You’re Going to Die podcast as a recommendation in previous blogs. And I have Megan Devine’s website, Refuge in Grief, listed under Resources. I was enthralled when the two came together as YGTD host Ned Buskirk’s interview Holding Humans w/Megan Devine was released Oct. 12th. This is such an honest conversation. And Megan’s approach reminds me of the experiences that are shared by folks during their interviews on my most favorite Grief podcast, Coffee, Grief, and Gratitude. I hope you will listen, especially if someone has told you your Grief has been “taking too long” and pathologizing your journey. Megan has some strong feelings about the new diagnosis of “Prolonged Grief Disorder.” Same feelings I had when it first came out.

Poetry

A wee poem from my archives. I was going to look through my poetry books for something about moving|leaving|grief|darkness|slow time, but my books are all packed away!

autumn skies

promise ruin

or

clarity

or

both

or

break

promises you

didn’t even

know

were

made

©anne richardson

Book Recommendation

If you enjoy the beauty, whimsy, enchantment, and the offerings of Wild Flowers, I recommend Tiny Seed Literary Journal’s Poetry of the Wild Flowers anthology. And yes, I have a poem, Forget-Me-Nots, included. One of my dearest friends, Lanette, has a poem in the anthology, too.

If you need further enticing, here is the blurb on blurb (where you order the book):

“With gratitude, we present "Poetry of the Wild Flowers," a Tiny Seed Poetry Anthology dedicated to the poets who generously contributed their voices in tribute to the countless wild blooms that adorn our world. It's truly astonishing, for instance, how the dandelion has sparked numerous verses. Rather than conforming to tradition, which would assign one poem to each blossom, we've opted to diverge from the norm and embrace the myriad ways your eloquent words honor these same wildflowers. In each and every poem within this anthology's pages, we unearth not just inspiration but also a deep sense of gratitude.”

A Harvest of Rest

In recent years, my local climate has not followed the usual patterns of weaving cool weather into night, to leaves surrendering their green into startling reds and yellows, and flowers dropping to mulch into soil as autumn approaches. Oh, it arrives in some form, but a bit chagrined and with a folder full of explanations. So I was happy, yes happy, to don my rain gear as the calendar officially announced the equinox in my beloved Pacific NW and the Nature that surrounds me magically turned on cue. As one who has lived all but the first four years of her life in this region on Earth, the shift in seasons is one way I navigate the spiral of my being. The harvest of rest this season offers, with its lengthening nights and bundling of my body for warmth, reminds me of all the moments I’ve forgotten in the chaos of summer about SLOW TIME. Slow time, something I lean into with more grace as I age. Stepping away from the demands of external clocks (though they still seems to dictate more of my life than I desire.)

Body Time vs Clock Time

Time never was meant to be clock rigid. And yes, when we travel, having planes and trains “run on time” is appreciated. In cities and towns, the syncing of traffic lights is helpful for driving, so there’s that. But in a few weeks in my part of the world, we will “magically” fall back an hour to, what, fool Sun? Birds? Our own body rhythms? We will be on “standard” time. I’m not sure who set the standard (okay, I could Google it, but I’m not going to…it’s a rhetorical ponder.) These days, I’m into pushing back against what I’ve been told are “standards.” A feisty crone over here.

Not every culture is so “clock|time” dependent. Neither is Grief. Or Joy. Or aging. Or the shimmer of communities when they gather spontaneously. Or the simmering of the vegetable or chicken stocks I make these days…sitting on the stove for hours, earthy aroma filling my nest. Time out of time just meandering at a non-determined pace.

Seeking Stillness

I wonder how long it would take for my body to sync with the Land I live on if I removed the external ticking of clocks? If, living in a city, I even could…or would I need to move out out out away from constant light intrusion and ancillary noise? Confession here: I like way too many of my comforts to totally rough it. And I am not glorifying times past when a small infected wound could kill you (oh wait, it still can…it’s called sepsis.) But still, where can we find STILLNESS? As a society, a culture, we seem to collectively be uncomfortable around stillness. As if it might reveal something we don’t want seen.

Savoring The Nest As I Prepare to Move

I’d like to say I’ll be in a very quiet, still place the next month, but after 13 months of looking for a new home (those of you that have followed me for a while may recall it has been quite a journey,) I have finally found a place to settle, at least for now. So I will be busy sorting, packing, donating, and finally resettling the next few weeks. I am thanking the space I now dwell for all it has offered. It has been kind and gentle and I will offer it a blessing of gratitude and release before I step out the door one final time.

On this home seeking sojourn, I was blessed with support from my wise circle of elders, which included embodied beings of all kinds and those beyond embodiment. I am beyond grateful as I prepare for this shift. And I am grateful for you following along on this journey.

May you harvest the rest you need in this autumn season (or if spring is unfolding where you reside, may you find restful moments amid the burgeoning energy of new growth) in ways that are meaning-filled to you.

Heart Book Recommendation

Amazing writer and my friend, Anne Gudger’s beautiful book, The Fifth Chamber, is finally available for purchase from your local bookseller (or the behemoth.) I found it so mesmerizing that I read it in three days. (It took that long because I wanted to savor it!) Each word is a jewel. And though there are tears, it is after all about the aftermath of the loss of Anne’s first husband in a car accident when she was six months pregnant with their son, it is also about joy and new love, and the weaving of grief, love, anger, laughter, sorrow, and all the experiences life can send ones way with grace…and M&M’s.

Anne and her daughter, Maria facilitate the monthly Coffee Talks I always rave about and host the podcast, Grief and Gratitude. To stay in the loop about Coffee Talk, or if you would like to be a reader, reach out to Anne or Maria via the Facebook group, Coffee and Grief Community or contact me and I will connect you.

Selection of Offerings & What’s On the “Schedule”

Here is a snapshot of what I offer to individuals and communities. To see a complete list, head over to my home page.

• Spiritual Direction/Companionship. Just a little reminder that Spiritual Companionship is the heart of my practice. I offer the gift of having someone come alongside and provide deep listening, allowing one to hear their own wisdom. Their own stories. To connect with their Source as they define and have experienced Mystery in their lives. To hold space to reflect on beliefs with curiosity without judgment. To be in the midst of their Grief & Loss and have someone simply be with them, taking time, all the time needed/desired to allow the journey to unfold. To celebrate joys. And more.

  • To find out more about my philosophy, background, training and “tools” that we can use in a session, check out my website. I follow the ethics of Spiritual Directors International., where I am a member.

  • I have space available. I meet with folks in-person or via Zoom. Please reach out if you have questions about how a session might unfold. Oh, and I always appreciate referrals!

• Labyrinth Facilitation. This summer I offered the labyrinth in two different settings. One was in support of parents coming alongside their teens in recovery through Collective Roots APG. The other was as part of an annual “Time of Remembering” offered by Mt Hood Hospice. I shared more about these experiences in my August 20th blog post.

  • I have a 22’ modified Chartres canvas labyrinth for use for events and am a Certified Labyrinth Facilitator. Check out my website or reach out if you are interested in discussing a possible event.

• Professional Presentations: My most recent presentations have been focused on Anticipatory Grief, Ambiguous Loss, and Disenfranchised Grief, which were highlighted in my Summer Newsletter (June 29). I have a wide range of experiences and expertise though, which you can check out on my “For Professionals” page.

With my upcoming move, my schedule is open. No big projects, presentations, or workshops. Moving takes a lot of energy, so I am grateful for the space. If you have ideas or requests though, send them my way. By mid-November I should be more settled and look forward to seeing what emerges, even as the literal season moves toward the winter season of deepening rest. It is a great time to gestate ideas in collaboration!

A New Outlet For My Ponderings: Substack

I have been following other writers on Substack for a while now and finally decided to expand my writing in that format. My Substack is called “following dandelion seeds” and will range further afield than the Grief and Loss support I offer here, though that will always be the undercurrent because, well me.

As I follow the work of philosophers, other ponderers, poets, writers, and so much more…I was finding I needed an outlet beyond my Nurture Your Journey blog that was less time intensive (these typically take 10-14 hours to complete.) It will also be more experimental. Push boundaries. I hope you will subscribe.

Also, there are some interesting offerings over there. If you are not familiar with Substack, many writers offer a free subscription level (my content is free.) I invite you to look around and see what interests you.

Reflection Questions

• As we settle into this darkening season in the north, how is “time” shifting for you? Do you enjoy the busyness of “the holidays” or can you imagine more stillness in the midst of the busy?”

• How might you “harvest” rest?

• What does it look like to allow space|time to be with Stars? Birds? Friends? Yourself? Mystery?

• How do you imagine stillness being part of your hour|day|week|month?

• If you feel Grief stirring in your bones, your heart, who can sit beside you and be with you? How can you be with one who is grieving?

Final Thoughts: Scattering

Honoring a Loved One’s Cremains

When someone is cremated or, alternatively, water cremated (alkaline hydrolysis), honoring the person’s remains is as individual as the beloveds who hold onto them. When my mother died five and a half years ago we had her cremated per her request (water cremation was not an option at that time.) Her ashes sat by an altar I set up as I waited for insight as to what to do.

When my father died thirty plus years before her, his ashes had been scattered over Wy’East (Mt Hood) for us by the funeral home. Back in the 80’s my relationship with Grief and the idea of ritual-ceremony was still a hidden gem waiting to be discovered. There wasn’t a lot of discussion once we decided on cremation except that he would be “scattered” and the choice was “ocean” or “mountain.” So mountain it was. As time passed it was comforting to know he was “on the mountain” I viewed frequently and I would say “hello Dad” whenever I drove through the forested passes. After my mother’s death, I knew part of her ashes would need to join the long ago scatter ones.

*******

At the one year anniversary of her death, I mixed her ashes with special composting soil called Let Your Love Grow, A Living Memorial. This creates a compost that engages with Nature in a friendlier manner. I created a special ritual to “do the mixing.” Some of these now enhanced ashes accompanied me on my Sojourn to her homeland in 2019, which I chronicled in blog posts that spring and summer.

The rest have been waiting to be spread over Wy’East to “join Dad.” Last weekend it was “time.” The weather was sun sparkle clear, evaporating the damp ground as mist rising from rocks on the path my son and I hiked along the Salmon River. The air felt calm as it entered our lungs and a way opened up for us to reach River. We shared a few stories and spread her ashes beneath a Tree, adding a small bundle of Rosemary, Thyme, Fuchsias and Impatiens tied with cotton twine, a rock I had brought home from England during that 2019 journey and a small wooden heart that said “love.” Made a brief call to include my daughter, who was not able to join us. A simple ceremony. Gentle and tender, like my mother. Grief by now shifting to something more akin to the sweetness of Peace Roses, one of her favorites.

No Rush. No Limit on Remembrances

There does not have to be a rush to honor your beloveds. And it can be done over several small rituals and ceremonies. Trust that you will know the how. The what. The when. Of course with burials, there are practical timelines. But even after that, there are still ways of hold remembrances depending on what is meaningful to you.

Grief, too, does not need to be rushed. Dance with it. Let it scatter you over a mountain. Or wash you out to sea. Sing to you. Sit with you in the dark. Let Grief rejoice when unexpected laughter erupts from your belly. Let Grief, and Joy, be your companions in the stillness. Bring your community with you in the stillness. We are not meant to be on this journey alone.

with deep gratitude,

anne

As Seasons Shift, So Do Songs

As summer wanes the songs of birds have also waned. I am no longer roused from sleep by the Dark-eyed Juncos’ romancing lilt an hour before the sun rises. Spring desire stirred their songs to life, along with Robins, Chickadees, Nuthatches, and so many more back when Rain still canvased Pacific Northwest landscape. Now the Junco’s nesting season is over, other wee birds stop by for sips from the birdbaths (Juncos understandably did not want to share space while they were parenting and kept other birds at bay.) I welcome the return of the full calliope.

It has been a dry summer and after several years of tending the two birdbaths on my deck, the wee artificial ponds seems to be a known location, especially to Goldfinches, which sometimes come as a flock. And if I am paying keen attention, a Stellar’s Jay occasionally stops by, hops about on the railing, sips, and is gone. Oh, and then there is Squirrel. Always Squirrel. Year round. Digging at my pots, first hiding food in the summer, then looking for it as winter wears on. A bold being, Squirrel.

Listening Beyond the Clutter of Daily Living

There is still birdsong lingering in the air, wispy and melancholic. I don’t know that I noticed this in previous seasons, the shift in song as the seasons shift. How these instinctual beings tune into the seasons through their voice. With all the distraction we humans clutter around our daily living it is easy to miss subtle changes. Are the birds who head south singing a travel song? The ones that stay behind singing a harvest song? Or, perhaps it is related to our changing climate. A lament perhaps. I suppose ornithologists study such things, but I prefer to leave it to my imagination.

I’m left wondering how our own internal songs shift with our life shifts. How our cluttered lives mask the sound of our own voice. Our own songs. This noticing, or not noticing, of how our lives are entwined with the beings that we co-exist with…it is the enchantment that I wrote about in my previous blog, Weaving Grief Into Our Enchanted Lives.

Discovering Grief’s Notes in Our Voices

Grief and loss can be found in our voice. Our songs. That is what I hear in the wispy and melancholic birdsong drowned beneath the droning traffic. “We are letting go of our nests. We are letting go of our fledgelings that did not survive. We are letting go of feathers and flowers and summer abundance. We are breathing in smoky air.” There are notes of joy in the songs, too. For the wee ones that fledged and are flying free. For soaring on winds that are first to announce autumn’s advance. For the taste of sweet berries hidden deep in thickets.

When we don’t speak our losses, they lie fallow in our bodies, an unsung melody, waiting to be composed. When we don’t sound out our joy, opportunity to share beauty is missed. Coursing through the air together, all our sadness and joy may sound cacophonous, overwhelming even. But listen carefully and what you hear is the soul of a community. It is more vibrant than traffic noise, I assure you.

Grief Literacy For All

I have been spending time listening to a variety of podcasts, reading articles and relishing poems, some intentionally about Grief and loss, others it arises incidentally. What I am learning, and I’m learning a lot, is that there are many, many ways to be with loss. To grieve. No one person or program or theory you need to “buy into” to be with your losses. I have discovered that allowing Grief to be my mentor has opened up my capacity to be with loss, my own and with others. I see Grief as an archetype (an archetype is a pattern that connects the people of the world across time and culture.) And for some of you that might resonate, or at least, it makes enough sense that you hang around (thank you.) Others have a different relationship when engaging with Grief.

There are many folks doing amazing work around Grief and loss that I recommend and value (some are listed in my ever expanding Resource section.) Because this journey is both/and, there is room for many ways of being. Being with Grief is part of our human experience. Part of any Being’s experience, I would be so bold as to add. There are so many approaches because there are many cultures and so many of “us.”

In our Western culture we squelched the voice of Grief (a long history here I won’t go into.) That is starting to shift. One thought is the pandemic and all the losses that flowed from that, cascaded into a movement that was already underway. I am grateful for the shift, if not all the loss that came about from the pandemic…losses that are still echoing throughout the world.

Find Grief Support That Works For You

I encourage you to find a resource, a program, a spiritual connection, a bereavement group, a writing/art group, a website, a community, etc…that opens up space for you to be in relationship with Grief. (I offer spiritual companionship for those grieving (and more) if that interests you.)

The only one I ask you to give side-eye to is if the focus is on “The Five Stages of Grief” theory. This has been a wildly taken out of context study made popular in Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’ 1969 book, On Death and Dying. Briefly, she conducted the study on a small sample of patients. It was related to dying patients, not the bereaved or those experiencing any other type of loss. It was NOT meant to be translated to Grief-work and be a linear way of being in Grief. Or limited to five “stages”…which has taken on a life of its own in our popular culture! (Hopping off my soapbox now.)

Grieving is Part of Living Fully

My mentor Grief continues to teach me how to live fully. To not be afraid to look at my sadness. My confusion. My discomforts. My losses—especially those less obvious. This sun-spin year (my birthday is coming up) as been up and down. Down and up. If you have followed my blog you may have noticed enthusiasm about possible moves. Dreams. Changes afoot. Then letting go. New ideas. A sense of clarity, only to have that fall into confusion. Nothing “earth-shattering” has happened. It has been five years since my mother died and since then, no one near and dear to me has moved beyond the veil. Yes, in the last five years I have felt some deep Grief that has been non-death related and I have shared that in my writing. But recent losses have left me feeling like the late summer birds, my song wispy and melancholic, when I can find it. The tune just out of tune.

Calling in Community Wisdom

Because I believe in community yet sometimes forget I am part of one…I remembered I have a “Wise Counsel” of embodied folks to call on for support. (I highly recommend finding wise folks to gather around you when you need to get out of your own way.) Just asking for their deep listening and words spoken back has released a space inside for my deeper losses to start humming a soft tune. I have given myself permission to SLOW DOWN. To write into the wise questions and observations offered. To sit. To be. And trust.

Grief & Loss Check-in

This blog is, in part, to acknowledge the seasonal losses, the micro losses, the “tap-you-on-the-shoulder” losses that come about as we grow and change through life. As dreams come and go…some fulfilled, some not. When I stopped, took a breath and noticed my sadness, confusion, discomforts. When I made space to call in my wise community, I allowed myself room to do what I’m calling a “Grief & Loss Check-in.” I recommend this even if life is humming along. Take a few minutes to check in with your emotions. Your body. Your life. See if there is any sadness, anger, weariness, confusion or other emotion/body-sense lying just below the surface. Be curious about what that might be telling you. For example: Perhaps something joyful is happening in your life, like a young adult child or best friend moving away to start a job. You are excited for them and…and what? What does the move stir up about your relationship? Is there some loss to reflect on? Something to grieve? A ritual needed maybe?

We live in a world designed to keep us from reflecting. Designed to keep us “moving along” in the interest of, well, that is something to consider too. Who benefits from your not pausing?

Singing Your Losses Into Being

So I hope you will take time to acknowledge and honor your losses. To hum. To sing them into being and be heard alongside your joy and wonder. Songs of Grief and Lament as well as Praise and Gratitude. Our community needs the full calliope of sound.

in deep gratitude,

anne

ps—Crickets have returned! Their nighttime serenade soothes and delights me. I am enchanted.

For Your Reflection

• take a few minutes to do a “grief & loss check-in.” first check in with your emotions. your body. your life. see if there is any sadness, anger, weariness or other emotion/body-sense lying just below the surface. be curious about what that might be telling you. what are you noticing? you don’t necessarily need to “do” anything with it, but if you decide to give this loss a voice, what might it say or sing? how might you honor it? is there someone you would like to share it with?

• who is your community of “wise folk” you go to for support? and who would consider you one of their “wise folk?” these are not folks that offer solutions or fixes, but will listen deeply and you trust to be truthful in their discernment….and then allow you make your choice without judgment.

• do you have “go to” Grief resources/communities that support you? what led you to them? what have you found meaningful about their support? how do you support others on their Grief journeys? and please, if you have a meaningful resource, send any info my way for me to check out!

• speaking of “moving on,” most folks have “moved on” from the pandemic, but the effects still linger for many and there are new variants (as i write this i have a my first case of Covid from the new variant, though fortunately, fairly mild.) do you have any lingering or unsung Pandemic Grief or loss that needs to be given a voice? where would you share that?

• where do you find joy, wonder and awe these days? since i started discussing enchantment, has that lens shifted your perspective on how you approach the world? it is okay if none of this resonates with your right now! if you are in the midst of deep grief, feeling overwhelmed and under a blanket of heaviness is normal and words/feelings like “joy,” “wonder,” and “enchantment,” may feel impossible.

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others.

Labyrinth Love

In August I was blessed with sharing the labyrinth in two settings: one more intimate and one for a wider community. As a Certified Veriditas Labyrinth Facilitator with a 22” modified Chartres canvas labyrinth, I was able to bring the labyrinth and my experience with Grief and loss to both these settings, collaborating with the hosts to offer a meaningful experience for participants.

The first workshop was in collaboration with Collective Roots APG, a wonderful organization that “is a family-centered recovery community dedicated to helping families heal from the effects of teen substance use and other high-risk behaviors.” My focus was on parents and supporting their Grief journey, primarily disenfranchised grief, that may not be given voice as their teen’s journey has taken an uncertain path. Through a combination of ritual, poetry, writing portals, and walking the labyrinth, those in attendance had an opportunity to express their Grief. And there was also space offered for hope. It was a tender afternoon.

Mt Hood Hospice in Sandy, Oregon offers an annual Time of Remembering that is open to the community. This year I was asked if I would offer the labyrinth as part of their resources for folks to be present with their memories and losses around the death of dear ones.

My labyrinth is not an “outdoor” labyrinth, per se, but under certain conditions, it can work. In this case, it was under a pavilion. Though of a different nature than the small intimate workshop earlier in the month, the folks that came to walk the labyrinth and that I connected with, shared so tenderly of their person. The organizers and volunteers do a fabulous job setting up this event and is a lovely example of communal grieving.

Hosting an event that includes the labyrinth doesn’t have to focus on Grief. There are other ways of engaging with the labyrinth. If you are curious how my expertise and experience as a workshop facilitator, with or without the labyrinth, may be a fit for your next event, please reach out and let’s chat.

Odd & Ends

• Coffee and Grief Community. Yes, I love this community and so I share what they offer often!

  • Thursday, September 7th at 7pm, PST is Coffee and Grief Community’s monthly Coffee Talk. It is #50! I always give a shout-out for this. Here is the link to register.

  • Coffee and Grief’s co-host Anne Gudger’s fabulous The Fifth Chamber’s book birthday is just around the corner. If you have ever heard her read any of her work, you know how beautiful it will be. If you feel the pull, please pre-order from your favorite indie-bookseller or other bookseller, whatever gets it in your hands.

  • Write Your Grief Out: “Come write with us, September 13th at noon PST! It's our annual free writing session and we'd love to share it with you. It'll give you an up close look at our 30 day Write Your Grief Out group that starts October 1st.
 Bring paper, your laptop, whatever you write with. Bring a friend. Bring your heart.
 Click on the invite!” I’ve heard great things about past “Write Your Grief Out” offerings.

• Update on “The Move.” Ah, this discerning where to settle—whatever that means (I will be moving, just not sure when and where) is a journey I choose to remain curious about even amid my confusion and other emotions that are stirring, as I shared above.

• In previous blogs I have shared my pondering after engaging with the work of Bayo Akomolafe. How it shakes me. Stirs me. Unsettles me. From September-December I will be taking part in the sixth iteration of We Will Dance With Mountains, part of his wider community’s call to revision what the world can look like. This one is titled Vunja! “'Vunja' is a Swahili word used to mark the kind of dance that breaks the ground open.” Participants are from across the globe, as are the teachers. A few I am familiar with. Most are new to me. I expect to be shaken. Unsettled. I will not be the same at the end…not if I engage with my heart.

• In my work, I hold space for those I meet with where they are on their journey. It is an honor. It is sacred. I am beyond grateful for those who trust me and allow me to listen to their stories or bring me into their communities.

  As I continue to linger in my own between space, a changing space, a time of shift, I will continue to be with you and invite anyone else who would like to work with me into a space of deep, respectful listening, because your voice…your song deserve to be heard.

  "Wisdom is what remains when we've come to the end of everything we know” Bayo Akomolafe

Closing Poem

The Facts of Life

(click on the link to hear Pádraig read the poem.)

By Pádraig Ó Tuama

That you were born


and you will die.



That you will sometimes love enough


and sometimes not.



That you will lie if only to yourself.



That you will get tired.



That you will learn most from the situations


you did not choose.



That there will be some things that move you


more than you can say.



That you will live


that you must be loved.



That you will avoid questions most urgently in need of


your attention.



That you began as the fusion of a sperm and an egg


of two people who once were strangers


and may well still be.



That life isn’t fair.


That life is sometimes good


and sometimes even better than good.



That life is often not so good.



That life is real


and if you can survive it, well,


survive it well


with love


and art


and meaning given


where meaning’s scarce.



That you will learn to live with regret.


That you will learn to live with respect.



That the structures that constrict you


may not be permanently constricting.



That you will probably be okay.



That you must accept change


before you die


but you will die anyway.



So you might as well live


and you might as well love.


You might as well love.


You might as well love.

When Wild Beings Mourn

Do you suppose small birds mourn? That, as their wee ones start out as four bodies emerging wet from beige, palest turquoise, and brown speckled eggs, one mouth seeming to crave life from the get-go while the others curl around the deep hearth of nest, waiting to stretch toward light, their parents ready to feed, to nurture, do they begin instinctual hoping? Do you wonder if, as the nestlings dwindle to one, they search for the lost or keep a keener eye on the ever-open mouth of the one remaining? Do they take time to sing a lament from the bow of the fir for the ones that never flew? And when, one morning after a night of tending, warming, they return for first feed to discover the one gone, no mouth to fill, too soon to fledge, do they weep bird tears? Do they rend their feathers? I wonder. I wonder.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Grief’s Curious Request

My mentor Grief poked at me a couple of months ago and said, “Enchantment. I want you to wrap enchantment into how I can be in seen in the world.” Honestly, I was confused as well as curious about what Grief was asking me to do. And certainly not sure how that might unfold. But I remained open and, while I won’t claim to have this nearly sorted, I’ve been given some threads, because I find when I say “yes,” enough dangly threads come along to weave something together. So I hope you will be patient with this loose weaving.

Enchantment as Connection

I have consciously been engaging in living an “enchanted life” since reading Sharon Blackie’s book The Enchanted Life, Unlocking The Magic of the Everyday, shortly after its release in 2018. I say consciously because even as a young child I was an observer of the “natural” world, but needing to conform and live life as my absorbed beliefs expected, allowed enchantment to wither as I became an adult. Though enchantment was poking back through my soil prior to her book, Blackie offered me the language, intention and affirmation for my intuitive way of being in the world. I have her Manifesto for an Enchanted Life taped on my refrigerator. Her thirteen points help ground me when I am spending too much time in my head and not noticing what is going on around me. I have written in previous blogs how living through the lens of enchantment offers a sense of belonging that connects me to the land and to others. As the epidemic of loneliness hovers over many, a sense of belonging and connection has been seen as a gateway to ending loneliness. (For more on this, I recommend On Being’s podcast interview with Vivek Murthy, US Surgeon General.) Perhaps living an enchanted life would be one way to relieve loneliness.

Enchantment Waits Patiently For Us To Return

This year Katherine May in her book Enchantment, Awakening Wonder In An Anxious Age, picked up the enchantment thread as we emerged from the pandemic: “Enchantment is small wonder magnified through meaning, fascination caught in the web of fable and memory. It relies on small doses of awe, almost homeopathic: those quiet traces of fascination that are found only when we look for them. It is the sense that we are joined together in one continuous thread of existence (my emphasis) with the elements constituting this earth, and that there is a potency trapped in this interconnection, a tingle on the border of our perception. …enchantment cannot be destroyed (my emphasis.) It waits patiently for us to remember that we need it.” (pgs 8,9,13) In a culture that bases “reality” on what can be seen, touched, measured, quantified, I found it reassuring that while we, in our Western culture, may have relegated enchantment to the realm of childhood imaginings, it is so much more than that, and is waiting for us to reawaken.

be true to Midsummer

no need to weed or trim

allow your wild to

breathe

poem by anne richardson

Awakening to Possibility That Other Beings Grieve

How then can living an enchanted life be part of one’s journey with loss? As I live my life through the lens of enchantment, I am fully engaging with all that transpires around me—human and other beings. I notice the first green awakenings of spring as well as the amber smoke hanging over the skies from wildfires. I hear the crack of a limb break in a winter storm. Spy the squirrel’s flattened body on the roadway, crows dashing in for a scavenging morsel. Watch the hummingbird flit between fuchsia blossoms. Close my mouth to avoid swallowing a swarm of gnats on my walk. There is my evolving relationship with “The Sister Trees.” And this is only what is clearly noted with the five common human senses. There is so much more going on. What, I wonder, does Tree feel as limb is rent from body. Is there a family missing Squirrel? Is Fuchsia grateful for Hummingbird’s affection? The language of “emotion” may be different, but is it not hubris to say other beings cannot experience loss, sorrow, joy, affection, humor…Grief?

Grief as Companion in Sorrow…and in Everyday Life

The longer I allow Grief to companion me, to teach me, the more I see how Grief can enchant my life. Does that sound contradictory? Yes, there will be sorrow, deep deep sorrow. And when we are in the midst of mourning, feeling enchanted and connected to a world beyond our own skin may sound impossible. It has been shown that our grieving brains become clouded (brain fog.) We need rest. Comfort. Some need solitude. Others gentle holding. Grief transforms our inner landscape. This needs time, s l o w t i m e. And there is no right way to be in your grief.

But I do want to open up the possibility that inviting Grief in as a source of enchantment can be a part of shifting our conversation around grieving in our Western culture…a culture where we have set Grief aside, not allowing it to be part of our entangled, enchanted lives…and especially not part of our communal lives. The more I study and listen to Grief wisdom folks, the more evident the need for the communal integration of grieving in all times of our lives…not only when “big” losses arrive.

Trusting the SLOW TIME

What if Grief were part of our everyday living and noticing? If we were not in a hurry to ”dead head” the roses but to allow the blossoms to go their full cycle? To let the leaves rot on the lawn (better yet, a pollinating spread of wildflowers to replace lawns) and provide cover for winter’s resting insects instead of blowing them away? If Grief were as much a part of our daily rhythm as gratitude, prayer, coffee, or other practices/rituals you embody, then when the life shifting losses come, well, they would still be huge. And they would still shift your life. You would still have deep deep sorrow. AND your body just might know that Grief is a companion and not to be feared. Might know how to reach out to others—human and non-human. Might trust the SLOW TIME needed to simply be.

Oh, it may not be easy. In the quote I included by Báyò Akómoláfé, he says “it might be said grief even travels you…beats you up.” There is a very physical side to grieving. Like I said, it shifts your inner landscape, like earthquakes, tsunamis, and volcanoes shift Earth’s landscape.

Grief is Not Rational

This quote from Katherine May’s recent How We Live Now podcast between her and Báyò Akómoláfé sums it up: “We have separated ourselves from grief. Something to be sought, found, cured, then dismissed. Rational.” Grief in an enchanted world is not rational. And not something to be checked-off on a list. It is part of our wild and alive world. Part of our wild and alive selves. When I, we, allow ourselves to invite Grief fully into our enchanted lives, lives where we slow down and notice the Dark-eyed juncos nest building, brooding, feeding, flight-dancing, quieting. Squirrel flattened on the road. Amber smoke curling through trees and building tops. Beauty in the roses crimped and browned petals, then perhaps we will stop trying to cure Grief and allow Grief to be part of our breath alongside all of what it means to be fully alive, wild, and living an enchanted life.

Being with Those Grieving

And I am NOT saying all the “go to’s” offered to the grieving should be cast aside. No, not at all!! It is about expanding beyond “after-a-loss” grief work (i.e. waiting until a loss has occurred to start “intervening.”)

In my resources section I link to websites that offer support. I offer support and deep listening to those grieving. Please seek out support if you feel alone and unsure as you journey with Grief. This is about both/and being-ness. It is not about diminishing anyone’s pain and sorrow. It is, I hope, acknowledging loss will be part of our lives, always, and to grieve is to be human (and someday perhaps we will acknowledge the grief of other beings too.)

A Gift of Living an Enchanted Life

Which brings me back to the Dark-eyed juncos that entrusted me with not one, but two clutches of eggs this season (see prior newsletter.) That second clutch, the one that went from four to one to none…there is mystery in the ending of our journey together, the juncos and I. Three days after the discovery of the empty nest and no sign of a wee bird body on the Friday afternoon of disappearance, the baby was “dropped” into my pepper pot at opposite end of my deck on Monday—a good 10 feet away from the basket. I had watered just before checking the nest, so I would have noticed sooner. I buried the small body in with my rosemary plant and offered a blessing. One of the juncos alit for a moment on the eave and gave a “dee dee.” They trusted me with a gift. They knew I would care. How did the body get into my pot? I don’t know. I don’t need to. That is part of living an enchanted life.

with deep gratitude for your willingness to be with me on this journey,

anne

ps: This wandering around with enchantment and Grief is fresh. If you feel confused. If it feels unclear, well it is because i am also on a meandering, slow journey with this…and it feels like the thread to follow. Several podcasts (see links below) and a great webinar I attended recently (thank you NW Association of Death Education and Bereavement Support, Center for Community Engagement and Lewis & Clark Graduate School of Education and Counseling and presenter Laura Lirette M.Ed, LCSW Director of Bereavement Services at Mt Hood Hospice,) Substacks I follow, a “random” article here and there, favorite authors, all weave into this. A desire to remind you all that Grief is not an illness. Not to be hushed. Not a solo expedition. And though most of my work is done with individuals these days, I see, as do others, the need to listen to other wise cultures and ancient ways and bring grieving back into the community…an expanded community. Perhaps we can work toward this together.

For Your Reflection

• how does living a more enchanted life sound to you? do you already live this way? if not, does it appeal to you? consider your childhood…how did you engage with the non-human world? (and remember, you don’t have to “go outside” to be in nature. everything around you is part of the natural world. you are part of the natural world. we are all connected.)

• is there a specific loss(es) you are grieving at this time? what are you noticing in your body? your energy? other things you are noticing? how are you honoring your way of being with the loss(es)? are you able to ask for what you need (if you can even name it…that can be difficult sometimes)?

• do you know anyone who is in the midst of a loss? are you wondering how to support them? what is your way of showing care? sharing a meal? sending card or a caring text of support? picking up groceries? show your care from your place of warmth and heart.

• have you ever engage in a community grieving experience beyond individual funeral/memorial/celebration of life services? what was that like for you, if you have? if not, how do you imagine it might be like and would you be interested in taking and/or creating part in one?

• how is your Grief these days? where are you discovering Joy? Awe? Wonder? Connection?

• what are you curious about when you consider weaving Grief with enchantment.

  • first response:

  • second thoughts:

  • further down the line:

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others.

Podcasts!

I have rediscovered podcasts and have some recommendations if you enjoy going down the Grief, Death and Dying rabbit hole (yes, I’m that kind of person. AND I learn so much from other folks experiences, stories, wisdom.)

• You’re Going to Die. “A creatively conscious mortality podcast for a 501(3) nonprofit bringing diverse communities creatively into the conversation of death and dying, inspiring life by unabashedly sourcing our shared mortality.” All the ones I have listened to have been meaningful so far, but to start out I recommend host Ned Buskirk’s conversation with Francis Weller, who shifted my whole way of being with sorrow when I read his book The Wild Edge of Sorrow and embraces the heart of communal grieving.

• How We Live Now. “How should we live in this world when so much is changed? Katherine May, author of Wintering, the Electricity of Every Living Thing, and Enchantment, asks those most intimate with the effects of these transformations: what now? How do we stay soft in a world determined to harden? How can we bear witness to suffering without being dragged into despair? How do we ride the waves of our anger, sorrow and exhaustion, and still find space for wonder, hope and joy? How can we possibly help? In a series of frank, thoughtful and deeply personal conversations, How We Live Now will explore the cultural, social and spiritual mindset for this long moment.” The current season’s theme is on Enchantment.

  • I referenced her conversation with Báyò Akómoláfé above. I recommend their chat, but really any of them. Katherine is “neuro-divergent” and that often winds its way into her conversations in how she and her guest are in the world. It resonates with me.

• Grief and Gratitude. Okay, I’ll keep bringing this one up, along with the Coffee and Grief Community’s Facebook Page and monthly Coffee Talks on Zoom (next one is Aug 3rd @7pm PT), because it is wonderfully organic and open to how grief and loss unfold in life. Here is the podcast description: “We’re widening the grief conversation, talking about the things we don’t normally take the time to talk about. We’ll hear different people’s grief stories and talk with them about their experience of grief throughout their lives. Each episode a guest writer joins us and reads a grief story. Then we talk about grief. One of the great pleasures of this experience is that we get to learn new things every time. We’re here to ask questions, not prescribe answers. We’re not experts in your grief. We’ll hear stories about death, sickness, politics, dementia, loss of young, loss of self.”

  • I listen each week as they come out because they are so rich…I even listened to the one where I was a guest. So, yup, here’s the link to that one, with the title, Grief as Mentor. No surprise there.

So that’s it for now for Podcasts, well, until the very end…

In Other News

Poet/philosopher David Whyte encourages us to ask “the beautiful questions,” not so much to have an answer but to remain curious and open. In my search for a home over the last ten months…a journey I had started to hold on with closed hands and a fixed stare, I realized I needed to ask a beautiful question to allow more openness. My question was “What would be a radical action?” I wasn’t expecting an “answer,” but soon after what “popped” into my head was “rent a small place at the Coast for a year.” I held that loosely too, but it fell into me with such a calm “yes,” that that is what I plan to do. If you have followed me for a while, my connection to the threshold space of the North Oregon Coast is deep. I hope to find a place and move by late September/early October. I am excited and overwhelmed (moving, right?) Will keep you posted.

Poetry

Okay, one more podcast: The SlowDown: Poetry & Reflection Daily with Major Jackson. He starts with a wee reflection then reads a poem. I love starting my day with poetry! And “Slow Down” is #8 on Sharon Blackie’s Manifesto for Living an Enchanted Life. I need reminding too often. To close then, here is a recent poem from The SlowDown, that seem fitting for an Enchanted themed post.

Invented Landscape
 by L.A. Johnson
 

It is the world as I’ve never seen it—

the sky, a kaleidoscope of orange blossoms 

and seagulls that drift soft as dandelions

                                                  and snow that falls

but then changes to glossy clouds, thin as cotton,

that float in gentle breeze; where the glow

from a high balcony becomes a portal 

                                                  to an orchard

untouched by human hands, where every tree

blooms with tufts of ivory, the rain descending

with low music, as the earth cools and smells

                                                 of soap; a kite

in the sky loops higher and higher in the wind

until the kite is a circle with no beginning,

a day that never ends in night, and a child glimpses 

                                                 wonder beneath

its salt-air sail, holding all mystery on a string.

This is the world as I’ve never seen it.

I’ve woken in dark rooms, I’ve toiled days facing

                                                an empty wall.

I want to write the world gorgeous

enough for my father to return to it. A world 

where oceans meet. A world of lands 

                                                  never split

with fire. Where you can tell the time

by the stars or the sun or by the dimming

minutes themselves, the way they feel

                                                   light in your hands.

Caught Up in Enchantment, Busyness, & Pondering

I guess this ”Early Summer” newsletter is substituting for the never-written-but often-contemplated “Spring” newsletter. It was an odd spring, what with a very wet start, a mid-season hot spell that dissipated into an almost autumnal feel. Oh, we had the occasional mid-80’s day and the tulips, lilacs, irises, peonies, dogwoods, and other seasonal regulars bloomed in color-wheel splendor to remind us Pacific Northwesterners that, yes, the calendar was correct. It was April. May. June. Somehow the writing of the Spring newsletter was waylaid by the enchantment of greening landscapes, creating and fine tuning my recent presentation, and pondering (okay obsessing about) my future “home” options…an ongoing journey I will not delve into right now.

My Teachers: The Dark-Eyed Juncos

I am learning from the Dark-eyed juncos who built a nest in a hanging basket on my deck. In two days they crafted a woven cradle of dried grass, thorny bramble bits, and wee twigs for the eventual five beige, palest turquoise, and brown speckled eggs that would be nestled within.

One invitation for me was to balance honoring the parents, nest, eggs, and chicks (once they hatched) with keeping the plants alive (which I assume they had chosen as a secure screen to hide the nest from predators.) Thus was born the watering ritual: 1) Use my smallest watering can so as to not risk slopping water on the nest. 2) Before watering, tap on the basket with a broom handle so the nest-tender would leave (if this step was skipped we would both be startled as nest-tender bolted from the nest and my heart, and I’m pretty sure the bird’s, would be thumpthumpthumping for several minutes.) 3) Apologize to the parent (who was tsk-tsking from the close-in branch of the Douglas fir) for the disruption and quickly water the outer plants, making sure to not touch the nest. 4) Be chided by the parents as I watered the rest of my pots on the deck for “intruding” on their domain.

After the chicks hatched I cut back on watering…just enough to keep the plants alive. From the vantage point of my window, I witnessed the energy it took to be a bird parent. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth all day long feeding five open-mouthed youngsters. Insatiable. This went on for about 10 days until they fledged. And me, always chided every time I went outside to water other pots or sit outside for a meal. Ah, but the joy of watching it all unfold…and a bit of sadness once it was all over. A wee loss perhaps? A bit of grief that the journey had ended? My chiding companions were gone.

Here’s the sweet gem I received in the silence following the busyness: even amid the tumult of summer, there are micro-seasons for rest and restoration. I needed to receive that.

Journey as Spiraling Cycle

A few days ago a couple of juncos (same ones?) appear to have been doing a little mating dance outside my window. Then a junco sitting on the deck rail with dry grass in its beak. A burst of activity in another hanging basket. I spot new nest. An occasional flurry of activity of a junco settling in, seeing if everything “fits.” Juncos can have two broods a season…so waiting to see.

Expanding Definition of Community

The intention of “being with” these wee birds this season has been a gift. They are the first to rise in the morning, their sharp chirps starting an hour before sunrise, well before even the robins chime in. The splash and spin in the birdbath that I know is practical but looks like play creases my face into a smile. Simply sitting and watching as they flit from Douglas fir to deck rail to planter and back to fir is prayer, as poet Mary Oliver might say. They are part of my community and I am part of theirs. I may be two stories above the ground but they ground me even as they fly. Or perhaps they are giving me wings. Both/and.

Grateful for Beginnings/Betweenings/Endings

Anyway, the summer solstice shimmied in with optimal temperatures (well, for me) and I hope you’ll forgive me for be a bit gleeful that we will now glide toward shorter days. If you are a regular reader of my blog, you’ll recall I am a fan of the long nights of autumn and winter. But for those of you who relish these light-filled days and are abiding in the Northern Hemisphere, I hope your embrace of this season fills you. And I remember, two years ago we were under a “heat dome.” Recalling that, I am beyond grateful for the cool, wet ending we had this spring.

Profession Presentations


What kept me hopping in May and June was preparing for: ”Let’s Talk About Grief & Loss: Ambiguous Loss, Disenfranchised Grief and The Importance of Connection,” presented to Parkinson’s Resource of Oregon. Those in attendance were primarily care partners and those living with chronic illness. It was a hybrid presentation (with both in-person and remote attendees.) I believe an important part of any presentation is offering at least one experiential component. For this presentation the one that seemed to resonate with those in attendance was the use of a writing prompt to “talk to” the disease, after using poetry to “prime the pump.” As John Fox says in Poetic Medicine, The Healing Art of Poem Making,

“Poetry is natural medicine; it is like a homeopathic tincture derived from the stuff of life itself—your experience… Poetry helps us to feel our lives rather than be numb. The page, touched with our poem, become a place for painful feelings to be held, explored and transformed. Writing and reading poems is a way of seeing and naming where we have been, where we are and where we are going with our lives.”

My goal, my invitation, when I present to any group is that they have something tangible to take out of the room beyond “head” information. A resource to take back to communities, families, into our own lived experiences. A sense of connection they may not have considered before that is meaningful. I believe we all need to deepen our sense of connection whether we are in the midst of a current loss, reflecting on Grief in general, celebrating joy, wonder and awe…or even in the midst of the “mehs” (yes, sometime life is “meh” and isn’t it okay to be that sometimes?)

I have presented in a variety of settings that have ranged from intimate, small groups to larger conferences. From in-person to Zoom webinars and hybrid formats. The organizations have varied as much as the presentations. From larger healthcare organizations with an “assortment” of healthcare workers & professionals in attendance to smaller, focused groups, such as chaplains. I shape my presentations to meet the needs of those attending, working collaboratively with organizers.

Here is a sample of presentations offered over the years:

• Anticipatory Grieving & Ambiguous Loss in Dementia Care as part of Oregon Care Partners Speaker Series.

• Labyrinths in Healthcare: Response, Respite & Resource. Providence St. Vincent Spiritual Care Team, Portland, Oregon. Education and experiential presentation offered as in-person and remote hybrid.

• Honoring & Befriending Grief as We Age. Retirement Connection, Senior Service Network-Clark County.

• Walking the Labyrinth: A Path for Meditation and Reflection. Fort Vancouver Community Library.

• Sacred Medicine: Poetry as a Pathway to Deeper Healing. All-State Palliative Care Conference.

Go to my website for a comprehensive list of in-services and presentations and please reach out if you are interested connecting.

Spiritual Companionship/Direction

Spiritual Companionship is the heart of my practice. I offer the gift of having someone come alongside and provide deep listening, allowing one to hear their own wisdom. Their own stories. To connect with their Source as they define and have experienced Mystery in their lives. To hold space to reflect on beliefs with curiosity without judgment. To be in the midst of their Grief & Loss and have someone simply be with them, taking time, all the time needed/desired to allow the journey to unfold. To celebrate joys. And more.

Yes, much of my experience and expertise is in honoring Grief, so many of those I come alongside are experiencing specific losses in their lives: a death, a life altering illness, an upheaval that has caused a questioning of beliefs.

But I also have folks that are on their religious and spiritual journeys who enjoy asking “beautiful questions,” as poet David Whyte says, and find having someone who allows the expansion of wondering in a safe container a gift. Not looking for answers as much as playing and exploring with Holy reverence.

To find out more about my philosophy, background, training and “tools” that we can use in a session, check out my website. I follow the ethics of Spiritual Directors International., where I am a member.

I have space available. I meet with folks in-person or via Zoom. Please reach out if you have questions about how a session might unfold. Oh, and I always appreciate referrals!

Labyrinth Facilitation

In August I will be facilitating a labyrinth walk for a local organization. Part of our time will be sharing together as community to reflect on Grief & Loss. That is one use of the labyrinth. The labyrinth can offer space for many experiences to unfold, including: rituals such as weddings, solstices, celebrations of all sorts, blessings; exploration of the spiritual journey; for teams to explore how they work together; stress reduction; or simply to have it available to a community as an open walking experience.

I have a 22’ modified Chartres canvas labyrinth for use for events and am a Certified Labyrinth Facilitator. Check out my website or reach out if you are interested in discussing a possible event.

Resources

In the footer of my website under HELPFUL is a button to click on for Resources. I am in process of adding handouts that are available for download. These are resources I’ve developed for use in workshops and presentations or for use with directees. Currently available are: “Prescription for Honoring my Grief,” “Your Heart Family,” and “Grief—A Tangled Ball of Emotions & Responses.” I will keep adding to this, so check back!

Podcast Recommendation!

I had the honor of being a guest on Grief & Gratitude, a podcast by Coffee and Grief: Grief as Mentor, episode #10. The podcast is the natural evolution of the Facebook group Coffee and Grief Community’s monthly Coffee Talks, which take place on Zoom. On the podcast the guest reads a piece of their work and then the kind and generous hosts, Anne Gudger and Maria Gibson ask questions and they all go on a journey together.

What I have appreciated about the podcast is the range of Grief journeys offered. The grace in the space provided. And that no one is “fixing” anyone. Grief is welcomed in the room. Please, if you are a podcast person, subscribe to this one (and not just because you can listen to me, but I would be appreciative if you did.) I have gained so much wisdom in listening to the other guests and look forward to the release of the next episode each week.

Oh, and the next Coffee Talk is July 6th at 7pm PT in the Zoom Room. Click here to register.

Big News: Anne Gudger’s heart book, The Fifth Chamber, publication date is September 4th. Her writing is stunning and I have already preordered my copy from my local bookstore. If your jam is supporting local authors, small presses and, like me, have found that Grief and Joy can dance together in life, and feel inclinded, please preorder you copy. Anne honors Grief with her whole heart…all five chambers.

Reflection Questions

• Where are you finding rest and restoration in the midst of the abundant energy of summer?

• If you are in the midst of a season of intense (your definition) Grief, how are you caring for yourself? If you know someone in the midst of intense grieving, remember to be kind.

Final thoughts

Okay, so this newsletter is mainly promotional. I admit I am not the best at marketing, but I am passionate about what I do. If you head over to my website, you’ll see I offer a few more services, which I will highlight another time. My invitation to you is to check out my offerings and see if anything resonates…or refer my services to someone who may benefit. Please and thank you.

Speaking of invitations, Grief offered me an interesting “portal” a couple of weeks ago for my next blog, which is brewing in my mind and heart. Here’s hoping the junco’s don’t distract me….too much.

And, ha, between when I started writing this seven days ago (yes, it is a process) and now…there is a second “batch” of four eggs, back in the original nest. Time to implement the “watering ritual,” especially since temps will be rising to 90+ next week!

As always, please take tender care of your heart.

Deeply grateful you are along on the journey,

anne

Bonus!

I posted this poem on my personal Instagram. I like it. Fits my mood, which is feeling somewhere between ungrounded, unsettled, uncertain, and wanting to run away to Ocean for a month with nothing more to do but sit with a journal, take daily walks on the sand with crows and gulls, listen, and ask “beautiful questions.”

unlaced

take off

your boots

bare

your soul

then &

only then

when

distracted by

wind

a small

pebble

blade of

grass &

any or

every being

then &

only then

Earth may

say

“now you are

some

where

else”

Seeking Stillness Amid Spring Vibrancy

Spring finally arrived and it has been so dang frenetic and my still winter-paced body has been in overwhelm. The season was a good three weeks later than last year, as evidenced by my camera roll, with cool mornings and cold rains and lots of mud lingering well past the “April Showers” phase. The greens, as if suddenly alert to the change, are verdant, vivacious, vivid, and a full thesaurus of vibrant adjectives. Then there are the blossoms, the birds and all the wildness of this burgeoning season in full glory. It is so alive. And it isn’t that I don’t appreciate walking in the sunrise light and not having headlight-glare driving in the early evening hours. But, as I noted recently to a friend, as this season of flowing is upon us, I have felt more like ebbing. Finding stillness in the eruption of Spring energy can be challenging. Perhaps I should contact my Aussie friends and go to the Southern Hemisphere for a few months. A recent unseasonable heatwave has compounded the urgency in the air as if proclaiming “Summer is already here!” I haven’t even come on board with Spring. Sigh.

Noticing = Invitations

The noticing of my own desire for stillness and quiet, the overwhelm of my senses has offered some invitations for reflections. Being overwhelmed…does that resonate with you? Yes, I know in my last blog, Everything is Connected: Resiliency, Ambiguous Loss, and Mud, I promised to share more of what I learned from the 3rd Annual Symposium of Death and Bereavement Studies webinars. But that will have to wait.

Overwhelm Self Check-in

First what led to this overwhelm? One of my tendencies is to wholly focus on one project until it has passed. Not that I can’t keep up on other “to dos,” but things like my blog posts slide, efforts to engage in more social media outreach for Nurture Your Journey gets put off. So from the end of March through the first three weeks of April, focus was on preparing my presentation, Anticipatory Grief, Ambiguous Loss, and Disenfranchised Grief in Dementia Care, for the Oregon Health Care Association’s Spring Symposium. Handouts, slideshow, rehearse, rehearse, rehearse. Whew. Completed that and I felt good about how it went. And…in an effort to keep my life in balance, I let other things go. In the past I have been prone to overworking. But those “things” like to lurk in the periphery like that dusty shelf you keep meaning to get to.

Long Journey with Grief

And then I had the honor of being a reader for Coffee and Grief Community’s Coffee Talk #46, which came about unexpectedly. I was so honored to step in AND I wrote a fresh piece for the May 4th event (I’ll have the Zoom link of the recording and a bit more info down below). Nothing was flowing (all that Spring energy was sapping my creative flow) until I retreated to the North Oregon Coast for two nights…right before the event, and then I wrote a fairy tale about a King and his Princess. This was a new way in to my long journey with Grief concerning my father’s death when I was 26. Here was the opening paragraph explaining the piece:

What are the facts and do they matter after almost four decades after his death? And what about memories and memories and memories? Those stolen from photographs. Sifted from journals. Whisked from the lips of others. They all become folded in on one another. An amalgam of dreams, wishes, desires, loss. They become the ash after a forest fire. The first sprouts from a nurse log that decay into the forest floor. Sand mixed in the surf. Time and not time. They are part of the landscape of my life. Of my grief. This loamy soil creates and recreates the story…no stories, I tell myself. And in the end are any of them true? Does it matter? Perhaps they are a fairy tale.

Grief As A Spiral

So past Grief returns with freshness within the season of vibrancy and I want to rest with it while the world around me is swirling. I found/find myself exhausted. And I was grateful to write about our relationship, my experience of my father’s death, my meaning-making of it in a new way after 37 years. Some say you shouldn’t look back. “Just keep moving forward.” But the sacred spiral offers that we come back to our touch points of Grief throughout our journeys, offering new perspective. New ways to appreciate. Grow. Honor. Learn. Love.

Loss as a Constant

Then there were new losses that flowed into my life. Soon after Coffee Talk, news came of a co-worker’s death from my former hospice world that I officially left six years ago. The hospice I worked for was a small-tight community in the early days, and though we peeled off and went our separate ways as the company grew, many of us stay connected via social media. This news, sudden. This dear one had gone in for surgery and we had offered our best wishes and prayers. The next we heard she had died. This news has struck a chord of sadness in my body. And I’m listening. Paying attention to what has been lost, but has no name, yet, though I suspect it has something to do with my own aging and mortality. Something I have not been shy to reflect on …but still this draws it close.

This was not the first death of someone I know or a beloved of someone I know in recent months. Plus somber news abounds in the world. A time of heaviness, not to be shied away from, but to be gentle with. Held as the smooth and rough stones I pick up on my coastal walks.

Wisdom in Being Heard

Fortunately I have a wise spiritual director (yes, when you offer spiritual direction/companionship, it is essential to have your own), who helped me unpack some intense feelings. Asked insightful questions, such as “What is dying in you?” (Still working on that one.) “What are you holding on to, letting go of?” “How are you staying grounded? (She knows how important being connected to Earth is to me.) And “In the frenetic energy where do you find stillness?” Then, toward the end our time together this tumbled out of my mouth, ”Grief never fails me.” Wait? What? Grief never fails me?

Grief as Embodiment

As I reflect back over these last few weeks, it has taken me time to realize my weariness was Grief’s embodiment nudging me to pay attention. That in wisdom, Grief truly never fails me (us), because when I (we) stop and am still, Grief reveals other companions: Joy, Curiosity, Sadness (to name a few) to sit with me (us). I know, your thinking, “anne, Grief is your mentor, right? Of course, there would be a teaching in this!” Likely one I’ve even written about and have forgotten.

And…a big And; Grief and Loss in all the myriad ways they weave into our lives can lead to overwhelm and then the need for stillness which can lead to bewilderment in the haze of “not doing” (are we not programed to “do” from a young age)—but that can lead to bewildment to wild moments. A letting go of expectations and allowing the freedom of not having answers or even not wanting them. Of offering permission to reconnected to the wild self. Even if that wild self is burrowing in the cool shade and not out among the frolicking beings of Spring. That too brief time at the coast offered just enough time to exhale, though I was still struggling when I returned. It offered time to connect with Grief and write my fairy tale. I was able to be still…and wild. Both/And. It opened space to hear this quote by Toko-pa Turner as medicine:

A reminder that to be uncomfortable and uneasy and in a “shroud” of fog is where the sacredness of living also takes place. Even if a part of me is dying in that space.

Putting Down Meaning For a Moment

A friend loaned me a book that is a gem, dropping in at just the “right” moment. Yes, it is a grief memoir. Personal Grief. Environmental Grief. Life Grief…and Joy, too. But oh, the writing is exquisite. Some of the best I have read. I am a third of the way through and I highly recommend the Carry Home, Lessons from the American Wilderness by Gary Ferguson (2014). Here is a taste: “My redemption would come in the form of a last request Jane made years before, asking me if she died, to scatter her ashes in her five favorite wilderness areas. And so I did….In the end these trips would bring me back to nature again, to wilderness. To the lilting beauty of unkempt places—places powerful enough to woo the hearts not only of the young, but anyone willing to put down search for meaning for a little while and just float in the sensation of being alive.” (pg 12)

To put down the search for meaning. I admit sometimes I am too focused on “looking for the meaning” in an event. To connect “random” happenings. A series of dreams. Etc. And there IS a time for that reflecting. But, sometimes can I, can we, release meaning at first and just be in the moment with the feelings, emotions, responses of our bodies and hearts and just float in the sensation of being alive? To be still and quiet with what is? What are your thoughts?

As you might notice, I am pondering over here, though will be working on another presentation soon for Parkinson’s Resources Organization (June 20th.) So, yup, will be diving into that creative process (I do like presenting!)

We Are All Connected-Heart Families

I don’t want to leave you without something useful (hopefully what I shared above has something worthwhile, but won’t presume). I follow-love Priya Parker (she is on Instagram, if that is your thing.) Her book is the Art of Gathering (recommend if you do any kind of gathering). She suggests bringing in your attendees right from the start. So in last month’s presentation I wanted to introduce the idea of the “psychological family” per Pauline Boss’ work on Ambiguous Loss by having folks fill out hearts with their “families” on them…the idea being they could then take this back as a tool to connect with care partners they come alongside in their communities of care and also reflect on their own support. I asked attendees to say the name of one “family” person into our space as we gathered, to bring them into the room with us; to expand our community.

So, out of that, I am working on a new “handout” to share with folks called “Your Heart Family.” (I am still tweaking it, so open to your thoughts.) On the front is a brief definition of what might be consider to be your heart/psychological family per Boss with a few of my ideas added. I have a link to the PDF on my Resources page on my website. I invite you to print out and cut around the heart and write down names on the back and consider who your support network is. Also, who might consider you to be part of their “heart family?” We are all connected…which was an underlying theme of my presentation. I’ve also added my “Prescription For Honoring My Grief” as a PDF to the Resource page. Getting fancy over here.

Thank you for coming along on this meandering post. I start them one day and wrap up a few days later. A journey in and of themselves. So much gets cut out. Sorting what feels relevant in the moment. What I like is hearing how are you doing? Being? How is your Grief? Your Joy? I’ve been listening to some new podcasts (listed below) and new questions are being asked? Stretching me. Good stretching. Let me know what you’ve been listening to and reading. I know it’s been a while, but you are never far from my heart.

as always, with deep gratitude,

anne

For Your Reflection

• how do you know when you are overwhelmed? what are the signs? how do you cope? what has been heavy in your life recently? what has felt light?

• how do you “roll” (or not) with the change in seasons? (your definition of seasons).

• how is your Grief these days? where are you discovering Joy? Awe? Wonder? (even when i am in overwhelm, i find wonder, awe, and gratitude almost every day. one of the ways i ground myself.)

• what is expanding in your life? (so spring/summer)! contracting? what is causing you to be curious?

• what is dying in you?” (yes, even in the growth of Spring, things die to make way for new). “what are you holding on to, letting go of?” “how are you staying grounded?”

• how did you respond to the statement: “Grief never fails me?”

  • first response:

  • second thoughts:

  • further down the line:

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others.

Listening…

I tend to have a quiet external environment. No TV or radio on during the day & evening. In the car I get “stuck” on a short list of songs from my playlist (one of my quirks…I have many.) So I have to remind myself there are some great podcasts I want to listen to. Some suggested and others I have have discovered on my own. So here are two I recommend, if podcasts are your thing:

• Grief and Gratitude is a new podcast out by the founders of Coffee and Grief Community and monthly Coffee Talk. As of this writing five episodes have been released and all have been pure heart balm. And yes, I’ve teared up. Are the topics easy? Well, it’s Grief shared with honesty and openness and rawness…and hearts full of gratitude. The wisdom is deep. Whether you are new to navigating Grief or it has been a recognized companion for years, there will likely be something for you. Length varies from 20-40ish minutes. Found wherever you listen to your favorite podcasts.

• On Being has long been a favorite show and has moved into the podcast realm. This season has been thoughtful on so many levels. If you only have time to listen to one episode though, I recommend the last one, with the US Surgeon General, Vivek Murthy—To Be a Healer. He shares deeply from his personal experience as well as wisdom gained from his years of service.

  He spoke a lot about being connected as community as the antidote to loneliness and despair. At the end he shared this brief meditation and I’m going to copy it here along with his comments because, well, it is all heart medicine.

  “So I’ll share with you something that I do in my own life, a tool that I reach for when I’m having those moments where I feel alone or I’m starting to feel the despair creeping in. And it’s very simple. It takes about 15 seconds.

  So just raise your right hand and place it over your heart and close your eyes. And I want you to think about the people who have loved you over the years, the people who have been there for you during difficult times, who have supported you without judging you, and who stood by your side even when it was hard. Think about the people who have celebrated your moments of greatest joy with you, the people who saw your successes as theirs, the people who derived such pleasure and fulfillment from seeing you happy. Just feel their love flowing through you, lifting you up, brightening your mood, and filling your heart. And know that that love is always there, even if they are not physically with you, because you carry that love in your heart. And know that you are and always will be worthy of that love. It came to you because you deserved it.

  And now open your eyes.

  What you felt in that brief meditation, that was the power of love. That is the power of social connection. That is our birthright. It’s who we were designed to be and what we were designed to experience. All of us, regardless of what walk of life we’re in, we have the ability to shine a light on the bright spots. Whether those are relationships that bring joy or movements in our community that are helping grow connection — it’s where we choose to focus our attention, it’s where we use our power to focus the attention of others that ultimately determines whether or not we create more light in the world or more darkness.

  But I just want all of you to know, just as I want my own children to know, just as I remind myself as well, that we are all worthy of love and connection. Even in those moments where we feel that we perhaps aren’t. Even those moments where we feel like we’re the only one who might be struggling. The truth is we are not alone. There are others out there who want what we want. A world that is more connected. A world where we can actually be there for one another. A world that’s actually powered by love. And that is within our grasp. We only have to see it, to name it, and to start taking actions in our day-to-day lives to build that world and reflect those values.

  And when we do, we will experience what one of my mentors in medical school told me years ago, which is, she said: Vivek, when you stand in strength, you allow others to find you. And every time you act out of love, whether that’s to a member of your own family or a moment of kindness you express to a stranger, you are telling people around you that it’s okay to give and receive love as well. You are inspiring people to be a new way and to be a new person in the world that constantly seems dark. And in a world that is full of despair, small acts of kindness are radical acts of defiance, and they’re the force that we need to ultimately build the world that we all need.”

Odds & Ends

Coffee Talk

Ten years ago a wee baby called Harvey was born. He died a day later and his mother, Monica grieved with the heart of lioness. Out of her grief she began doing an annual in-person reading event in his honor. The last three years when the pandemic threatened to interrupt the reading, Coffee And Grief Community stepped in and handed the “mic” over to Monica so Harvey’s readings would continue online. The May Coffee Talk is now “Harvey’s” evening. This year new loss once again visited Monica and she requested step in. I was so so honored. The other readers of the evening were powerful and I recommend a listen. It is one hour.

I love the Coffee Talk evenings, first Thursday of the month, 7pm PT. Generous beyond measure in welcoming Grief into the room. I post the Zoom link on my Nurture Your Journey FB page (it is a new link every month). Or, if you are not on social media, you can send me an email and I can send you the link.

If you want to become more comfortable with Grief, this is a place to start.

A Bit Of Poetry

I submitted a couple of poems for the Lake Oswego Library’s Annual Poetry Submission. It is supposed to be posted soon. Here is the link for when it is up. There should be a PDF of the 2023 poems on that page.

Both/And

So yes, overwhelmed, but in the world where I dwell I can hold two (or more) things/ideas/feelings/etc at once. I can stroll slowly with the overwhelm (or perhaps snuggle with it) and delight in the wonder of the morning birdsong and sunstreams threading through bluebells. So go ahead Spring, overwhelm me. Strawberries will be ripe soon and that makes my heart do cartwheels of joy. Perhaps by then Spring and I will be in sync…just in time for Summer!

Listening for Undertones & Connection

Spring arrived in the Pacific NW on the appointed day and week in fine fashion with a few 60º days, rapturous robin songs, crocuses popping out of the ground…and then snow? Not a lot. It soon melted, but it startled. Rain predictably returned. But the mornings have hovered just above freezing, the chill of winter not quite ready to take leave. Spring, like me these days, seems to be struggling to settle into a rhythm. Or maybe the struggle is actually the rhythm with a bit of improv thrown in and if I listen closely enough I can hear the undertones.

When I stop and listen closely. When I get out of my own way, I become more connected to the whole. I am part of, not apart from. It allows me to be in streams of life. To flow in and through and mingle in what Bayo Akomolafe intertwines in his essay, When you Meet the Monster, Anoint Its Feet (Emergence Magazine, Oct 16, 2018) the concept of “‘holobionts,’ assemblages of bodies within bodies within bodies, or intersecting communities that toss out notions of separable individuality.” To live as part of this land needs to be done with reciprocity, though honestly, I still feel the land and all the beings I’m engaging, or assembling, with are offering me more. But I give back what I can.

Grief & Loss: A Common Thread

As I started and restarted and restarted this blog again again again, I looked for threads. There is always the Grief and Loss thread. My intentional leaning into teachings on Grief and Loss will always provide something “useful." Lately it has been the colorful thread of resilience. But then I’ll find surprises in unexpected places. A FaceBook or Instagram post. Random article. Email. Podcast. “Non-Grief” books. Conversations. Hmmm. Grief and Loss are universal my mentor, Grief, keeps reminding me.

Gathering the Threads

Does that happen to you? Where are you gathering new teachings? New wisdom? New ideas? You want to pull all your thoughts together into one cogent theme but all you have is a tangled mess? Sigh. So let’s see what unfolds with no guarantees it will make sense, but I do hope you will find something you can take away. Let’s start with the thread of resilience, though at the end I am going to fray the thread with some push back.

It is possible to live and grieve at the same time.

Dr. Lucy Hone

Resilience & Grief

Resilience is not a new way of coping with loss, but it seems to be more prevalent in my awareness these days. Perhaps I shifted my perspective? Or maybe the pandemic brought resilience into our collective focus…more articles, books, etc. In my Winter newsletter I referenced a 2015 TedTalk by Dr. Lucy Hone that soared in popularity during the early days of the pandemic. Before that it only had a few thousand views. I also viewed her webinar at the recent 3rd Annual Symposium of Death and Bereavement Studies where the symposium topic was "Cultivating Radical Resilience.” Dr. Hone’s book, which I have not had an opportunity to read is: Resilient Grieving: Finding Strength & Embracing Life After a Loss That Changes Everything. Her life changing loss was the death of her 12-year old daughter in a car accident.

Strategies of Resilient People

What she offers in her TedTalk are three strategies she has found in resilient people and “are available to anyone”:

• Resilient people get that suffering is part of life, even if they don’t welcome it. They don’t ask “why me?” or assume they are entitled to a perfect life.

• Resilient people are good a choosing carefully where they place their attention. Appraising situations and typically manage to focus on things they can change and accept the things they cannot. They do “benefit finding” or “look for the good” in life.

• Resilient people ask, “Is what I am doing helping or harming me?” For example she chose not to go to the trial of the man who drove the car that killed her daughter, discerning it would be too hurtful to her. Her husband met with him at a later time. They made different choices.

I appreciated the closing line of her TedTalk: “It is possible to live and grieve at the same time.” She emphasized that resilience doesn’t discount grief and pain.

So Many Grief Nuggets, So Little Time

There were five highly regarded speakers/presentations at the Death and Bereavement Symposium and to recap them all would take up more space than is reasonable in one blog. So over several blogs I’ll share nuggets that I hope you will find helpful to support you or others you come alongside. If you are interested in finding out when the next one is you can sign up for the host’s, Dr. Terri Daniel’s, newsletter (and see what other education and bereavement support she offers). And to find out more about what Dr. Hone and her associates offer go to the New Zealand Institute of Wellbeing and Resilience.

Ambiguous Loss & Resilience

I completed the modules in my class: Ambiguous Loss: Its Meaning and Application (yay!) And wouldn’t you know it, resilience also helps those coping with ambiguous loss according to Pauline Boss’ model. First what is ambiguous loss?

These are the key components:

• It is a loss that is unclear.

• It has no resolution or closure.

• It is an uncanny loss—confusing and incomprehensible.

• Is when a loved one’s status as absent or present remains hazy.

• The duality of loved ones being absent and present at the same time is confusing and finding meaning (or making sense of the situation) becomes challenging.

• It ruptures relationships as they were known.

• Something is definitely lost, but unlike a death, no one comes to validate and support the loss.

• The usual customs and rituals used to manage grief are not available.

• It can’t be fixed.

Examples of Ambiguous Loss

Here are some examples: The disappearance of Malaysian Airlines Flight 370, where no bodies have ever been recovered (or any instance where a body is not recovered, including 9/11, wars, kidnappings, runaways.) This is type of loss is where the person is physically gone but psychologically present.

The other type is when the person is physically present but psychologically absent, such as with dementia, addiction, someone who is generally tuned out in a relationship. Also consider immigrant families who have left family behind. Their homeland and those they left behind are often very much present in their minds (and this would be the same for those back home). I think of how this was true for my mother as she awaited the arrival of her weekly air letter from her mother over the years. There was ambiguous loss on both sides of the Atlantic.

Living with Ambiguous Loss

Per Boss’ model, to live with ambiguous loss with resilience one needs to:

• Find Meaning: being able to understand the experience by accepting two ideas simultaneously—the relationship is strangely lost, yet still exists (both/and thinking).

• Balance Control with Acceptance: understanding what one can control (for example: perceptions, tolerating ambiguity) with what is an irresolvable loss.

• Broaden Ones Identity: Acknowledge shifting roles. Asking “Who am I now?” in this relationship and family structure.

• Manage Mixed Emotions: All feelings are normal, including conflicted emotions (ex: joy and anger). However, need to talk with someone if at risk of acting out negative emotions.

• Hold on and Let Go: Relationship is more one-sided. Attachment needs to be revised. The relationship isn’t broken and it isn’t the same. Accepting what is still available and grieving the connections that are no longer possible.

• Imagine New Hopes and Dreams: This arises out of resilience.

• Take the Time to Care for Ones Own Health.

  (Source: Loving Someone Who Has Dementia, How to Find Hope While Coping with Stress and Grief, Jossey-Bass, 2011, Pauline Boss, PhD.)

Ambiguous Loss: Our Common Thread

Though these terms are from Boss’ book on dementia, they are applicable to any ambiguous loss and are expanded on in her text book, Loss, Trauma, and Resilience. Therapeutic Work with Ambiguous Loss. What Boss emphasizes in her class is that WE ALL HAVE EXPERIENCED SOME KIND OF AMBIGUOUS LOSS IN OUR LIVES. No one person can be fully present to us, or we to another, 100% of the time. I’m guessing if you reflect back over your life, you can name instances you have experienced or are experiencing ambiguous losses.

I found this course expanded my understanding of this little discussed yet prevalent loss in our world. I will be a better spiritual companion and friend from what I learned. Hopefully by reading these few words, you will be curious and more open to the ambiguity of ambiguous loss and make room to be with those experiencing it in their lives. For example those who have any unresolved situations, long-covid, loved ones with dementia, cancer, or other life changing illnesses.

Throwing Mud Into the Resiliency Mix

Dreaming of Mud: Mud has been making an appearance in several of my dreams lately, so I’m curious. What is it like when I walk along mud coated paths? What conversation are the two elements of water and earth having when they create mud? What is co-existing in the water, the earth, myself (those “assemblages”)? What if I just stand in mud? Get stuck in mud (I’ve been feeling stuck in some areas lately)? What is mud on a large scale? I remember the devastating mud flows from Mt. St Helens’ 1980 eruption. And I happened upon an article about slow moving mud flows the other day! How is mud like Grief? Loss? (Bet you knew I was going to get there). Lots to ponder about mud. I appreciate how mud makes me slow down my pace….and I already live a slow life. When I fall on a muddy path, I’m not always appreciative, but there is something in that too. And what does mud have to do with my fraying the thread of resiliency.

Resiliency as the New Fix?

Well, what if we need to slow down the “fix” of resiliency? What if “Resiliency” becomes the new Five Stages of Grief? Yup, those “five stages of grief”? I’d love it if you forgot them. (As an aside: they are NOT valid and there are other well researched Grief Theories to support those who need therapeutic help.) In our society we tend to attach ourselves to an idea and then turn it into cement. Make it a one-size-fits all look. Inflexible. On its face “resiliency” seems like a healthy way forward through Grief and Loss (and it has well-researched theories behind it.) We see resiliency in nature (and I tend to seek out nature for wisdom). See how bacteria are starting to eat contamination in lakes!

But what happens if we decide someone isn’t “resilient” per a set of criteria that gets folded into popular culture? What if resilience becomes the new measure of how someone is “properly grieving.” We are quick to pathologize grief because there is so much discomfort around how folks are grieving. That is one of my concerns. That we will say to someone in the depth of a loss: “Yes you are suffering, but everyone suffers.” Or, “You just need to find the meaning in all this.” Try to push the one grieving along so, as the observer, one can feel more comfortable with someone else’s suffering.

Community Not Individuals

In some of what I’ve read, I also see a lack of connecting with community. Once again we are asking individuals to do “the work” of being resilient. “Do your grief work,” we say, instead of calling on what I’ve heard called the Council of Elders. Those who walk beside us in times of suffering and shadow. These could be from our faith communities. Family. Friends. Nature…remember there are many wise beings among the holobionts. When I need support, being by Mother Ocean or by trees is my comfort as well as my human community. If we are to shift our Western Culture’s way of being with Grief and Loss, we need to step away from individualism and into community and hold each other’s Grief together.

Grief is a Natural Response of the Heart

So, yes, resilience can be helpful in navigating Grief. Loss. But does your resilience need to be “radical”? Is it okay to squash through the mud at your own pace? Or just be stuck in the mud for as long as you need, gathering all those “assemblages” in the mud with you? I received Mirabai Starr’s email with this nugget that offers the “and” to any dogma that may arise to counterbalance resilience run amok:

Grief is a natural response of the heart, and there is no right or wrong way to grieve.  It is not a linear trajectory and there isn’t a map that will lead you to the other side.  There is no other side.  Grief is a lifelong adventure of loving and integrating, yearning and honoring, ever more deeply.  Nor is there a timeline.  Your task is to be exactly where you are, and our task is to bear loving witness to your unique process.

Still, there are certain universal features along the way, and it can be comforting to see yourself reflected in one or another of these thresholds at any given time.”

She is very wise and so much of what she writes aligns with my own thoughts. You can sign up for her musings if you are interested.

Anyway, as you discern how to navigate your Grief, your Losses, consider bringing alongside community that supports you. Ask yourself, “Who are my Counsel of Elders?” human and non-human. Use what has been offered about resilience and see what is helpful for you at various points along your journey. Some days it may be just what you need to, well, get through a day. And other days Grief may want you to be in the mud, being ever so slow and kind to yourself.

And if this all feels rather, well, muddy, being with Grief and Loss isn’t clear. Perhaps the Losses in you, in us, are looking for a “new home and are wandering”. And that is why there is no right way to navigate this journey. No one north star. No one model that will get you and me to a non-existent “other side.” But there is community. There is caring. There is kindness. May you find at least one on any given day.

with deepest gratitude,

anne

For Your Reflection

• what does resilience look like to you? are there times you can recall being resilient? has resilience helped you through difficult times or helped someone you know? i was brought up in a “stiff upper lip” culture which could be seen as a short term way of coping, but i don’t see as resilient in the long term because the loss was never discussed in depth. what about you? what beliefs did you absorb about coping with loss when you were young or in your culture?

• who are your “Council of Elders?” who would ask you to be on theirs? is Grief on your council? Joy?

• can you name some ambiguous losses in your life, past and/or present? how have they been acknowledged by those around you? as you reflect, have you named them before now as “ambiguous”? how might you give voice to what you are experiencing?

• Bayo Akomolafe talks about loss needing a new cosmology, which i hear as a new way of understanding and being with loss. loss needing a new home. what does this mean to you? what might it look like for your personal losses to wander?

• Mirabai Starr speaks about Grief being a “lifelong adventure of loving and integrating…” and not “having a timeline.” how might you be with your Grief if you were to consider it a companion and you were on an adventure, though a hard one, together for a lifetime, crossing thresholds….some very muddy.

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to being kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others.

Grief Odds and Ends

• The Dougy Center for Grieving Children has so many resources. I encourage you to check out their website. Did you know they host the podcast Grief Out Loud and they recently had their 250th episode (March 16th), which I found it deeply moving and, yes, an example of resilience amid a most difficult loss. I highly recommend listening to Finding The Words - Colin Campbell Besides the tenderness of the story, it offers insights in talking to folks who have experienced one of the most difficult losses, the death of a child.

• Talking about Death and Dying can be difficult when you are healthy, let alone have been diagnosed with an life altering illness….or are simply aging. How do you start the conversation when you are not fluent in “death talk”? I recommend The Death Deck. Per the website: “Have Fun With Some Taboo Talk. Play the new party game that lets you explore a topic we’re all obsessed with but often afraid to discuss”. I have found it helpful in jumping into those uneasy conversations with friends that may be less willing. They also have a new deck out, the EOL (End-of-Life) Deck, that “is a tool used by families, caregivers, and healthcare providers to help facilitate conversations about end-of-life wishes. With a casual tone, multiple-choice and open-ended questions, the E•O•L Deck makes starting conversations about what matters most a little easier.” I just purchased this and it looks great.

• Coffee and Grief Community hosts Coffee Talk the first Thursday evening of every month (7pm PT on Zoom). Five writers read their heart balm words. I look forward to this every month and highly recommend. To get the links each month follow Coffee and Grief FaceBook or, if you follow Nurture Your Journey on FB, I usually post the link the day before or day of.

April is National Poetry Month!

As you can imagine it is one of my favorite months of the year. Poetry is so accessible these days! I am blessed to live in an area that has exquisite poets everywhere you turn. I learn so much from reading their words. And how about you? Do you remember the first poem read to you? A poem that moved you? Made you laugh? Are you Interested in participating in National Poetry Month?

• You can subscribe for a free “poem-a-day”.

• You can participate in poem in your pocket day on April 27th (#pocketpoem).

• Send me your favorite poem(s).

• Check out the Academy of American Poets website for more information.

Speaking of poetry, I’ve been stuck lately and not writing much…but I do have one of my heart poems coming out in Mountain Bluebird Magazine’s spring issue. This is a wonderful small press by the amazing Jenny Forrester. If you feel a nudge, please subscribe.

And poetry circles are one way to help folks reflect on the life journey. Here is a small promotion for an in-service or presentation I can offer: Use of Poetry as a Common Language to Explore Grief and Loss.

End Note

I was introduced to Carolyn Hillyer’s work through the Hagitude program I am participating in this year. I found this YouTube video, Gifts For Your Journey, so soothing. It brought me home to myself. Perhaps it speaks to my Celtic Roots. (it is close to the four year anniversary of my leaving on my first sojourn to my heartland.) Perhaps you’ll take 7 minutes to listen and let it be part of your day’s journey.

Until next time, may you find small moments of wonder and awe in your days.

Hope is Kinda “Typical”

Ah February in the Pacific NW. Our mild winter faked us out with a few warm spring-like days earlier in the month. This is typical. A few bulbs poke up. Trees start budding and a few have even bloomed some years, though at least this year the cherries didn’t. Wise those cherries. We are giddy with visions of lighter jackets and warmer days.

Then cold swept in with an unexpectedly large gathering of snow in the lowlands. Caught the weather-folk by surprise as well as the evening commuters on a recent Wednesday. Portland recorded 10-12” in some neighborhoods. My higher elevation abode had about 10”. It turned into an icy mess once the snow thawed a bit and refroze. All the headlines read “snowapocalypse”and folks in the midwest rolled their eyes I’m sure. Now this is typical…a “false” spring followed by more “wintery mixes,” but we are a hopeful bunch in the Pacific NW (or forgetful) and think each year will be different.

Familiar Becomes Unfamiliar

Since snow is not the winter constant where I live, when we do get significant snowfall, what I notice is how it shifts my perception of the landscape. I took a walk the morning after the “big snow dump.” The familiar was now unfamiliar. Limbs leaned closer to Earth under the weight of gathered flakes, whispering secrets. Ornamental grasses that appeared fragile and dry, shape-shifted into inverted hammocks holding their crystalline occupants. Sidewalks melded into roads and gardens. Each cold breath was an acknowledgement of the awe I was witnessing. When one has a safe place to be after a snow excursion, the crispness, the chill, the echoing laughter of children playing, the act of being present without an agenda other than to notice can be received as a gift.

In the midst of all this my Mentor Grief also asked that I pay attention. Loss shifts landscapes. The familiar becomes unfamiliar. There can be ambiguity. Finding safe shelter…or providing it for someone else, that was a nudge Grief was offering underneath the beauty I was experiencing. A both/and-ness.

Expanding Understanding of Grief Support

Besides the snow shifting landscape, my perceptions about grief, bereavement, and wellness are shifting and expanding. Here are a few examples:

• I am 4/5ths of the way through my online course, Ambiguous Loss: Its Meaning and Application (see previous blog), and gathering many insights on resilience in living in the midst of ambiguous loss. These insights will be woven into an upcoming presentation (more on that below) and my other work, plus future blog posts.

  And here’s a little secret…I love learning new things! While I don’t need new letters/degrees behind my name at this point in my life, I am always up for classes that expand my horizon or peak my curiosity.

• I’ve been watching excellent presentations from The 3rd Annual Symposium on Death and Bereavement Studies: Cultivating Radical Resilience. They are causing me to pop the lid off my box of beliefs about grief support. Yes, I have my biases. So expanding how I can be present and listen even more deeply to those I am coming alongside in my spiritual companionship practice. If you want a taste of what I am learning, I recommend Dr. Lucy Hone’s Ted Talk, “3 Secrets of Resilient People.”

• I have one more session to watch from The Body As A Doorway with Sophie Strand offered through Science & Nonduality (SAND). It has really made me look at the language of health, wellness and medicine in a new way. The recordings are available and if you work in the “healthcare industry” I highly recommend purchasing and watching. Besides Sophie’s own wisdom, her Q&A with the participants that have chronic health issues is moving. The common theme is they don’t feel believed or heard.

• And though not in the specific grief, bereavement, wellness box, I try to find time to fit in my Hagitude year long course. How does that tie in? Often aging women don’t feel seen or heard. Dismissed. And when we are noticed, it is for marketing around “anti-aging.” Sigh. I, however, am embracing my aging and heartily rail against the anti-aging marketers. Okay, I do have my moments when I rail more against my aches and pains…but then I come back to acceptance.

Everything is Connected: Mycorrhizal Networks

My usual way of taking in information and new learning is to let it ferment inside for a while with all my other learnings and noticings. See what kind of stew will be made. Or maybe it is more like bits of fabric I have picked apart and I have a pile of unraveled threads that I slowly start to weave together into a new fabric.

Everything is connected, like the amazing mycorrhizal networks of fungal organisms in the world. I’m not sure at this point what is going to arise out of the soil of all that I’m taking in, but I’m excited. And I am also getting a nudge from the labyrinth that when this is sorted a bit more clearly, to weave it into the labyrinth’s wisdom.

Reflection Questions

When do you notice your perspectives shifting? Do you actively seek out ways to expand your perspectives? Invite new ways to see the world? When do you feel an itch to check out the root of your beliefs and biases? Let me know your perspective on perspectives.

Three Years Ago The World Shifted: Covid

What Do You Remember?

Speaking of shifting perspectives, I think it is safe to say we all had our perspectives shifted three years ago when Covid entered the landscape of our lives. Befuddlement led to questions led to fear led to deaths and masks and isolation and 6ft “keep apart” markers on floors and vaccines and divisions and so much more. It makes my head spin when I look back. And my Facebook feed will offer “memories to look back on” photos, whether I want to or not, as will news outlets.

How Do You Want to Honor All That Has Unfolded?

I’ve already noticed the energy shifting as talk of the “anniversary” is in the air. Folks might be edgy…and not even understand why. It is in the collective consciousness. Something to be aware of. So, please, be extra gentle with yourself…and others.

• If you lost someone to Covid consider if a ritual would be appropriate and what that might look like. It might be as simple as lighting a candle. Saying their name followed by “I remember you.” Or sharing their story with someone else who remembers them. Be creative. This is about what is meaningful to you.

• If someone you cared for died during the shutdowns and restrictions that wasn’t related to Covid but you felt there was a lack of a meaningful ritual to honor their passing, what might it look like to gather now? Toss around some ideas with those who would want to be involved and trust your intuition.

• Consider what you lost (or even gained) since the start of the pandemic? Take some time to reflect. Perhaps gather with some friends and share your experiences.

• If you work(ed) on the front lines in healthcare (broad definition including the folks that cleaned rooms, etc…you know who you are), please listen to what your body is telling you and be extra kind to yourself. The “bigwigs upstairs” may want to move on without acknowledgement, yet you may still be carrying the effects of exhaustion. Of holding the dying when no one else was present. Things are not what they were. This also applies to those who worked in funeral homes.

• And for those who have long Covid. I see you. I believe you. Long Covid is a shape-shifter within your body and often invisible to the outside world. We live in a world that wants to move forward and may see you as a reminder of this difficult time. Your voice matters. You matter.

Did You Know I Offer Presentations For Professionals?

I will be presenting at the Oregon Health Care Association Spring Expo (April 20-21). The Theme is Spring Into Quality! My presentation will be ANTICIPATORY GRIEVING, AMBIGUOUS LOSS, & DISENFRANCHISED GRIEF IN DEMENTIA CARE. I’ll be updating my previous presentations on this topic with new information I am learning. Excited to present on this important topic that is often not addressed for professionals and for caregivers. Oh, and this conference is “in real life,” not a webinar. There is something different about that interactive energy of being in the physical room with folks that I am looking forward to. It’s been a while.

The creative process of designing a presentation. Catering it to a specific audience. Listening to what is asked for and to my intuitive sense of what needs to be offered. Discerning how to engage those present. It is one of my passions.

Check out my webpage for examples of past offerings. Do you have a topic, educational need, or interest for your staff or community that we can work together on? Whether webinar, IRL or hybrid, let’s talk.

Spiritual Direction/Companionship Referrals

Most of my directees come into my presence by word of mouth. A few via the Spiritual Directors’ International website. And some through a Google search! Your confidence in me to say to a friend, a colleague, another professional that what I offer may be of benefit to someone grieving or needing support on their life journey is something I honor deeply. I am grateful for your support.

I have space available and am looking forward to welcoming those who sense a spiritual companion may be the person they would like to invite on their journey. I meet with folks via Zoom or in-person. Check out my spiritual direction/companionship webpage for details about my philosophy and how a session may unfold. And please reach out if you have any questions.

The Wonder of Awe

I need more time to read! How about you?

Two new books are out on AWE, which is often a feeling I encounter when I am out in nature or even sitting by my window and watching the birds drop by for a sip of water or icicles melt.

One is by Katherine May, the author of Wintering, The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, which I’ve mentioned in past blogs, as it is a favorite book. Her new book is Enchantment, Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Time. Here is a quote from her website: “Our sense of enchantment is not only sparked by grand things. The awe-inspiring, the numinous, is all around us, all the time. It is transformed by our deliberate attention. The magic is of our own conjuring.”

The other is Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life by Dacher Keltner. His recent On-Being interview with Krista Tippett was a delight. And though I thought it was all about Awe, Grief was in there too, as the author’s brother, to whom he was very close, died. Awe was how he came to cope with his loss. Here is a quote from the interview, which ties in with shifting perspectives:

“And so awe tells us: go out and expand your view of things. And I do think it gives us meaning. The young people I teach are very good at algorithms and computations, and they need the broader view. And that’s what it gave me during this hard time in my life was like, “Wow! You know, what I really care — I have this new sense of the human form and spirit that maybe my brother is always with me in ways I can’t imagine.” And it — going in search of awe gave me that.”

What books or podcasts are you reading or listening to these days that are shifting your perspectives? Expanding your horizons? Inviting you to reflect on your beliefs? I have a “note” in my note app of books to buy or gather from the library (it is getting sooooo long!) What do you think I should add to it? I’m not very good at keeping up on podcasts, but still offer those for recommendations, too. Sounds like something to add to my blogs…reader recommendations!

Final Thoughts

So March is doing the proverbial “roaring in like a lion” with less than three weeks to the official start of spring in the Pacific NW. I continue to be in the search for a home trusting it will come about when we are ready for each other. My vision of gathering and being in community in a way that is different from how I am currently living, is still clear. Room to create a labyrinth…clear.

Spring. It is the time when seeds (intentions) that have been planted sprout. So will see what the next cycle of the moon offers. Holding it with curiosity…and awe.

Whatever season you are in, metaphorically or in the real world, may you treat yourself with tenderness. May you find awe in the smallness of the everyday.

in gratitude,

anne

Relief as Hope

I can sense the relief in my interactions with others these days. It is FINALLY light after 5:30pm! Yes! Folks are smiling again. Hope in the form of longer days in the Northern Hemisphere has arrived. We passed the midpoint of winter February 1st and “suddenly” first light crests the horizon well before 7am and daylight lingers longer. Last Tuesday at 6pm when I set out on my Mazama Street Ramble, there was still a vague hint of light in the west as stars started to bud. A clear night blossoming after a day of steady rain.

Nature takes the seasonal shifts in stride. If I look back through my camera roll, there are photos of daffodil tips poking through the soil in February from years past. Already the hellebore are blooming and if I draw a dogwood twig close to my eyes I can see the beginnings of budding. From a distance the deciduous trees appear to still be slumbering, but beneath their exterior they are awakening. It all feels predictable…or at least variations on a theme. And humans, for the most part, like predictable.

Living Amid Cycles

Living in the Pacific NW, I am immersed in the range of seasonal cycles. I often draw on them in my writing. Winter is dark, damp, and cold. Time to nestle by the hearth and draw inward. As spring begins to warm the earth, life emerges from the ground, fills the air and rivers. Even as winter echos into spring, waves of energy surge through the days. The spiral of life continues and spring moves into summer with all its riotous color and expansion. And, if you are a winter lover like me, the cacophony of summer, full of bird songs, street songs, earth songs can be overwhelming in the midst of gratitude for all the bounty. We “winter people” exhale when the solstice turns us back toward shorter days. The never-quiet days of summer, then slowly ebb into autumn when one day the sparrow’s song is replaced by a cricket’s chirp as you pull on a sweater in the evening and notice the crunch of leaves underfoot as you amble the neighborhood. Feasting on the harvest of all that spring awakening offers the cycle a chance to bow toward winter and once again look forward to rest.

“Noticing” to Build Stronger Connections

Animals, plants, mountains, rivers, fungi, moss and more. They help me navigate life. Joy, Grief, Hope, Loss. We co-inhabit this planet with more beings than I can even imagine. My written words sometime feel constrained by the flat dimension of the alphabet you are reading this in. No rumble, gurgle, flash, feather, squish. As I try to lift the lid, break out of the boxes, known and unknown, I’ve placed myself in, I look more deeply to non-human beings on the planet for wisdom. To listen and notice with more intention.

I’ve returned to a practice of (almost) daily writing (don’t know how I let that one slip away, but I did). I even added a small “noticing” notebook for when I go out to jot down what my senses are picking up on. I’m out of practice and so far my writing is pretty inane! I’ve let that muscle atrophy. What practices do you have that help you notice your environment? For some it is writing. For others drawing, photography, collaging or speaking into your phone’s recorder. It is about reconnecting or building a stronger connection with the world we co-inhabit. It is about getting familiar with the language of crow, deer, maple, fungi, moss, hillside, crack in the pavement where a wee wildflower pushes through, the tree standing alone outside a storefront. Its so we can start having a conversation in their language…whether that be a rustle, a shift in color, tones in cawing, how rain rivulets in a storm, fragile leaves reaching for sun.

Grieving Unknown Languages

I will admit I often transfer my own human emotions onto my experiences with other beings. It takes effort to unlearn my human-centric ways. I feel sad for Tree standing alone surrounded by pavement, not connected to any Tree community so I assume Tree must be sad too. Listening for the language of Tree and what that may teach me takes more effort. It may be sadness…or anger, resignation, or an emotion without a human correlation. Or no emotion at all. This is part of my pondering these days. And a deep-seated Grief of my own. That I lack the language to hold more meaningful conversations, though I am trying. I believe the land I inhabit senses that and will honor my muddling along. How about you? Does this sound far-fetched to you? Do you have a desire to have a deeper connection with the land you live on? Have you had conversations with beings other than human? What was it like for you? Looking back at prior posts, I see this is a recurrent theme, this desire to connect. I remain open to new perspectives. Do you have any you would like to share?

Ambiguous Loss, Grief & Living With What is Unresolved

Rituals of Wellness?

Whenever I have to “categorize” my business, I am boxed into “wellness,” “health,” and/or “spirituality.” Buzzwords that can mean many things depending on who you ask. I am taking a four-week course through SAND (Science and Non-Duality) with Sophie Strand called The Body is a Doorway, that is expanding my perspective on “the industry of wellness and health” and even my role as a “spiritual practitioner.” Here is a brief description of the course: “What does it mean to have an illness – physical or psychological – that is incurable or terminal? What does it feel like to have a condition that is resistant to diagnoses, treatment, and resolution? Those who are permanently exiled to the kingdom of the unwell are still expected to perform daily penitential rituals of “wellness”, handing over money, time, and physical energy to a process that is closer to haunting than it is to healing.”

As someone with her own “disability,” Sophie asks us to move away from seeing ourselves as individual organisms and consider our symbiotic connection to all beings. How disconnecting from our environment has not served our human bodies. Her essays and workshops have given me food for thought and shifting how I am approaching one of my own chronic health issues (migraines) as well as how I might be a more compassionate presence to those in my spiritual companionship practice. Here is a sample of one of her articles, I Will Not Be Purified. If you choose to read it (and the rest of what I’m writing will make more sense if you do) I would be interested to hear what you think. Like I said, stirring lots of thoughts.

Is It Failure to be Ill?

For me all roads seem to lead to Grief and Loss (I suppose that’s my bias and where my mentor, Grief leads.) As I “compost” Sophie’s words and sort through what I am digesting, I sense ambiguity. From my experience, our culture does not like ambiguity. We (meaning our “health conscious” society in general) prefer fixes and solutions. We desire those who are unwell to pursue all avenues of cure and wellness so we are comfortable. Perhaps we are projecting onto our friends and family who are already in the “kingdom of the unwell,” our own fears of being ill. Of having to ask for help. Or becoming marginalized,

AND I sense that another part of this is our society has enough difficulty grieving death, let alone grieving losses such broken relationships, loss of jobs, loss of dreams, etc. So many losses that go unacknowledged and rarely have a ritual to bring a community (no matter how small) together to give voice to what is gone…or perhaps unresolved but needs breath. What to do with the friend who straddles the world of treatment and non-resolution? How do you honor their choices?

Ambiguous Loss: A Definition

Interrupting this post with a definition: I am in the midst of a course, Ambiguous Loss: Its Meaning and Application that is focused on the work of Pauline Boss who coined the term. Here is the definition: Ambiguous Loss: “a situation of unclear loss that remains unverified and thus without resolution.” Among other situations, it has been applied to folks with dementia and mental health issues, but I also see it applying to folks that are marginalized in our society for not being “whole and healthy.”

Acknowledging Disenfranchised Grief

People are complex. There will be folks who are engaging in the healthcare system and/or exploring the wide options of alternative and spiritual healing practices. This can be both/and. For some that is where they find hope. And there are times people need to take a break. I am the first to acknowledge that I affirm the use of medications, psychology, and alternative practices (I am after all a Reiki practitioner.) And I often share a book I am reading that I feel some may find helpful for where they are on their journey.

What I have experienced in our system though and what Sophie so passionately voiced in her essay is when the healing modality does not “heal” or “cure,” we tend to blame the individual. And thus her term that they are exiled to the “kingdom of the unwell.” These folks, I believe, have a grief that has no space for expression. What has been coined by Ken Doka as Disenfranchised Grief. Grief our society has no rituals to acknowledge. Or give voice to. Marginalized. If you aren’t “fighting” or “seeking a solution” the conversation stops.

A Can of Worms

I feel like I’ve open a whole can of lovely worms to put on the compost pile. There is so much here “to process.” (And I haven’t even touched on the trauma portion of Sophie’s work.) I know I’ve said unhelpful things to folks in the past…and will likely say some in the future. Perhaps if you are in the midst of seeking treatments this post will annoy you. In no way am I opposed to medical or other interventions if that is the path of choice. Or maybe you have been struggling to put down the path of treating a chronic issue for a period of time and this will give you permission. As always, take what you need and leave the rest!

Asking Better Questions

I’ve been mulling over better questions to ask my friends who have a chronic condition. Such as “what need can I meet today?” “is there a story you would like to share with me?” “what do you experience when you go out and would you like to share? i’ll listen.” “know a good joke?” Okay, I’m not sure about that last one, but humor can be helpful. If you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them.

Being with ambiguity. With something that won’t be resolved means being patient. Not fixing or solving. Asking kind questions of how someone wants you to be present. And messing up and asking forgiveness when you do.

I’m sure I’ll come back to this in future posts, but will leave it here for now. I hope you found something to ponder. Perhaps a nugget to put in your back pocket. Share with your neighborhood tree or crow.

Ah, Retreat Time

And to wrap up, I was able to sneak away to the Northern Oregon Coast for three nights at the end of January. Ah, my heart place. Where I replenish my energy, my soul, my body. Long strolls, sand and rock, geese and elk, Mother Ocean, Sun, and Moon. Deep sleep. I could not have asked for a better retreat. I am not sure when I will get away again, so very grateful for what I was offered.

I hope you are finding gentle and kind ways to care for your heart, your body, your soul.

as always, deeply grateful for you

anne

PS: Even as I prepared to post this, I couldn’t solidify a title. I returned to my recent retreat at the coast. My conversation was with Sand, the dweller of threshold space. Between Land and Ocean space. That is where the language for ambiguous loss and disenfranchised grief will evolve…I think. I don’t know. It just arose as I struggled with a title.

For Your Reflection

• how have you considered your relationship with the world you inhabit? do you have a desire to have a deeper connection with the land you live on? have you had conversations with beings other than human? what was it like for you?

• what practices do you have that help you notice your environment? these can be ways you check in with your “self” in general.

• do you have a chronic or “unresolvable” illness? how do you engage with the community of health and wellness? with friends and family? what resonated or didn’t about what was offered in the post? if you are a family member or friend of someone with a chronic condition, take some time to reflect on how you engage with them. is there anything you might change? are there questions you would ask?

• have you heard of ambiguous loss before? disenfranchised grief? have you had losses in the past or currently that feel “unclear and unresolved?” a grief that has been marginalized? what comes up for you when you remember this grief or loss? i’ll come back to this in future posts, but do reach out if you have questions.

• usual question: are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to be kinder and gentler with yourself? how can you be kinder and gentler toward others.

What I’m Reading

The Spell of the Sensuous by David Abram, an “ecological philosopher” among other things. I am slowly chewing on this 1996 book that, besides for some anachronisms, could have been written in the last five years. You can tell it is giving me a lot to consider from my thoughts above. Here is a blurb from “the net”: “The Spell of the Sensuous is a keystone work of ecological philosophy – a book that startles the senses out of habitual ways of seeing and hearing, awakening us to our immersion in a living world….The book unfolds into an exploration of language, and of the power our words have to enhance or to stifle the spontaneous life of the senses. Contrasting the spoken stories of diverse indigenous oral cultures with ways of speaking common to literate civilization, The Spell of the Sensuous reveals the profound impact that writing (and the alphabet) has had upon the human experiences of time, of space, of earthly place.”

Heart Radical, A Search for Language, Love, and Belonging by Anne Liu Kellor. Just finished reading this memoir. What an honest reflection of the author’s early to mid-twenties. The author, who faithfully kept a journal as she traveled and lived in China (her mother’s homeland), shares with a wisdom I know I didn’t have at her age. Here is a short blurb to spark your interest: “I wanted to understand how my path was tied to my mother tongue. As a young, multiracial, American woman, I traveled through China, the country of my mother’s birth. Along the way, I tried on different roles—seeker, teacher, student, girlfriend, artist, and daughter— continually asking myself: Why am I called to make this journey?” I highly recommend this book.

Grief Odds and Ends

• Wait a minute! They (my friends) didn’t tell me this series was about grief. Started watching “Shrinking” on Apple TV. The premise is about a psychologist who isn’t coping well. We find out his wife died a year earlier and, well it seems to be rippling through his work, relationships, and a lot more. Have watched four episodes and so far I haven’t yelled at the TV for how Grief has been handled. Actually seems pretty close to what I’ve witnessed. I think my free trial will run out before the series finishes. OH NO!

• David Brooks of the New York Times wrote a heart essay, “How Do You Serve A Friend In Despair” about how his best friend died by suicide last year and all the ways he tried to “help” him. Yes, I’ve tried them all too with loved ones with chronic depression. He shared about his helplessness at not knowing how to be with his friend. And he shared about two other deaths of good friends in the last year. Yes, Grief. I don’t know if this is behind a paywall, but if you can’t get access, let me know and I will find a way to get the article to you.

• If you have thoughts of suicide, please call 988, the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline.

• And a wee remembrance. Feb 15th is the five year anniversary of my mum’s death. She had Alzheimer’s disease, though it was congestive heart failure that saw her over the threshold. Ambiguous Loss. One of the two types is when someone is “physically present but psychologically absent.” And it certainly doesn’t have a resolution until death. Disenfranchised Grief is also part of the Alzheimer’s (and any dementia) journey. So, yes, I’ve been drawn down the path I wrote about today for personal reasons. Anyway, I’ve been working on a remembrance poem, but it just isn’t quite there. Maybe I’ll share later. So for now, Remembering you. Love you.

Closing Poem

Sometime you randomly pick up a book from your collection of poetry open to a page and a poem fits the theme of this blog. To close I offer Watchers from Harvesting Fog, by poet Luci Shaw.

WATCHERS

Behold the fleck of ant

bearing with diligence his large

load of crumb down the long

mile of floorboard.

If, by observation, we become

part of an insect’s life, is he

aware of us?

What thread of vision

links antic and observant?

What false criterion of size?

And who is it who, watching us,

whispers Watch for Who it is

Who watches you?

Noticing What I’m Noticing

Ah, 2023 has arrived. What have you noticed in these first days? Me? The weather words: “atmospheric river.” My poetic-self loves imagining what I can create with that. However, California is not fairing well under the weight of the rain these rivers carry and folks and landscapes and beings are suffering. At this writing there seems to be no end in sight.

Weatherscapes are shifting across our planet. Images inundate our social media feeds and from some of my recent readings and webinars, English words (perhaps others, but that is my learned tongue) can lack the deeper meaning needed to convey the urgency behind the shifts. I am not sure what to do with this information yet (except sensing loss and a need to grieve.) I love reading and written words, but there are times written language fails to convey urgency…even my beloved—poetry. So I will continue to explore-expand my connection to the natural world I inhabit. I will take more time when Rain patters on the brim of my hat as I walk and listen to the story Rain may want to share. Those “in-sky” rivers are “raining” down stories. Are we prepared to listen?

Need to Connect Inner & Outer Worlds

Those rivers have remain south of where I live in the Pacific NW. Since the Solstice on December 21st we have had Snow, Ice, Fog, gusty Wind and an abundance of Rain. Even the clarity of Star-strewn nights. For some “the gloom” of this season is as weighty as the rain falling in California. For me, these long dark nights and short days are nourishing. That doesn’t mean I can stay indoors for days on end. I need to physically connect to the land I live on. Feel my feet on Earth. My current residence is on the second story. A lovely nest, but removed from the ground.

The land we live on speaks to us if we listen. We are part of it, not separate from it. Full of stories, like those raindrops. Trees, birds, fungi, stones, bugs, streams, all the beings that surround us are alive with wisdom. In my listening to them, I have come to understand they story me. Everywhere I have lived or visited has dropped stories in me. And I in them. We are deeply intertwined.

Need For Literal Grounding

When I don’t get outside, I stay inside….my head that is. That can be okay for a day or two, but it gets claustrophobic in there. I need the wisdom of others, whether human or other species to keep my pondering from being infinitely self-reflecting and self-serving. I’m just not that into myself. Where do you find your connections? Is it in nature? Community? Cosmos? A combination? What helps you get “out of your head” when you have spent too much time cruising around up there? Please share your ways of connecting.

Welcoming Wholeness

I mentioned in my Autumn Newsletter I was asked to take part in Portland Threshold Singers Winter Solstice offering. The theme was “Welcoming in Wholeness in Winter.” At first glance “wholeness” may conjure the ideal of “perfection” or “completeness.” As a reforming perfectionist I instinctively rebel against that definition. But as I prepared for my part in the event (a small invitational reading at the beginning and facilitating the labyrinth walk,) I dug deeper. Who is included in my perception of wholeness? What has influenced my idea of “whole?” Does in it include community? Even my own body is made up of many biomes and portals. I can never be “complete.” When I read the book “No Bad Parts” about Internal Family Systems by Dr. Richard Schwartz, I learned about the Self and the other selves within me. So how does “wholeness” look in that system as I sort through integrating my various “selves?” I discerned that wholeness needed to be held loosely and there was no one “right” way to define it. Yes, like a journey with Grief or healing or faith, “whole" will shift depending on my awareness of the stories that have been part of my life…and lands storying me. I’ve included some of the reflection questions offered during the event down below if you would like to ponder on the meaning of “wholeness” for you at this time in your life.

Setting Intentions, Holding Them Loosely

I am not one to do big “resolutions” at the turning of the calendar (Solstice or Gregorian.) I do like to set intentions though. As I have mentioned previously, I am in the market for a home that has enough land to build a labyrinth. This is a strong call. Also a place to gather community. To participate in a more expanded way than I have the last few years. I am energized by this shift. And while I have some sense of how it will “look” I am holding it loosely as I wait for the land to welcome me and the rest to unfold.

How have you approached the turning of the calendar? It is different for everyone. Perhaps you set intentions monthly, with each season, another way that works for you or never. I’d be curious to hear your ideas.

Lingering Grief from the Holidays?

Holidays can stir up even Grief and losses experienced long ago, let alone recent losses. The missing of our special folks made acutely present. Events not feeling “right.” A gnawing sense of loss. And more. And then the “new year” arrives and everyone around you returns to “normal” and perhaps you are like “Wait! What just happened?” Whether your loss is fresh or freshly turned over, my Mentor, Grief, invites you to take the time to name the loss and honor it. Perhaps a ritual such as lighting a candle and sitting quietly or saying “You are still remembered” or preparing a special meal. Or your own intuitive ideas. Trust yourself with this. Let me know what arises for you.

Gratitude for an Infusion of Energy

As January’s days start ticking off on the calendar, I am full of both/ands. I am relishing the cool dark, the invitation to rest and will be taking a short retreat at the end of the month to my beloved North Oregon Coast. AND I am full of energy and ideas. I am sensing a year of growth and opportunity. I am enthused. Sure, there will be bumps on the path…a path that is not yet revealed. So off we go. I look forward to sharing more as this mushy thing we call Time unfolds. And please, let me know how you are being.

with deep gratitude,

anne

For Your Reflection

• what have you noticed the first days of this new year (how ever you define that?) what do those noticings stir in you? any “beautiful questions” (as poet David Whyte would say) arising?

• if you live in winter climes, do you relish the dark or is it difficult for you? how do you care for yourself and/or others who may have SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) to manage during these short daylight hours. if this time of year seems to drag on, i imagine my relishing this time of year can be annoying!

• how do you connect with the landscape around you? how does it feel to wonder that the land, trees, birds, stones, etc may have their own stories? how do you imagine places you have lived have storied you? how might you have storied them? a great resource for exploring this is Sharon Blackie’s book “If Women Rose Rooted”…and yes, anyone can gain insights from reading this, not just “women.”

• do you ever get stuck in your head? we live in a very “thinking” culture that avoids honoring the wonders of our body. walking the land is one way i get out of my head. what are some ways you get out of your thinking mind, if this is a concern for you?

• what is your process for making intentions (for a new year or otherwise?) after you make them are you able to hold them loosely? do you share with someone else? is it okay to let them go and revise or redo at another time in the year?

• are you treating yourself with kindness and gentleness these days? how does that look? if not, how might you make the shift to be kinder and gentler with yourself?

  Here are a few of the Wholeness invitations/reflections from the Solstice event on the words: “wholeness” and “whole”:

• do i welcome all aspects or parts of myself with kindness and tenderness…even those i am uncomfortable with. my broken places. perhaps consider the beauty of a stained glass window.

• how does it feel to embody wholeness? what senses help me explore wholeness?

• what does wholeness look like when i am in community?

• how wide or close in is my world? what might it look like to include other beings, such as trees, animals, waterways, life seen and unseen around me? stars and galaxies?

Spiritual Companionship Referrals Appreciated

Most of my directees come into my presence by word of mouth. A few via the Spiritual Directors’ International website. And some through a Google search! Your confidence in me to say to a friend, a colleague, another professional that what I offer may be of benefit to someone grieving or needing support on their life journey is something I honor deeply. I am grateful for your support.

I have space available and am looking forward to welcoming those who sense a spiritual companion may be the person they would like to invite on their journey. I meet with folks via Zoom or in-person. Check out my spiritual direction/companionship webpage for details about my philosophy and how a session may unfold. And please reach out if you have any questions.

Odds and Ends

Reading to further my understanding of Grief: “The Grieving Brain, The Surprising Science of How We Learn from Love and Loss,” by Mary-Frances O’Connor, PhD. One of my directees recommended this. Thankfully it isn’t about “grief is all in your head” and here is “how to cure it” but how our marvelous brains connect relationally to losses and grieve through a neuroscience perspective. Sounds dry, but it is well written from a storytelling perspective. Plus the author does a great job of explaining why the “five stages of grief” took hold even though it wasn’t a clinically proven model. I always give points to a writer that works to shift our cultural conversation around that now debunked “theory." Side note: This isn’t to denigate Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and her ground breaking role in bringing death awareness to our Western culture’s attention. Unfortunately her work has been taken out of context and “mainstreamed” to the point other research-based approaches to bereavement support have been drowned out. (I just attended an education event on this that was great.)

I also appreciate how the author separates “grieving” from “grief.” She says, “Grief is a moment that recurs over and over. However, the moments are distinct from what I call grieving, the word I use to refer to the process, not the moment of grief. Grieving has a trajectory.” (pg xvi) That is why Grief lasts a lifetime.

It is based on research in the western world, so there is that bias. But anything that improves our cultural awareness about Grief seems positive to me. Though I’m not done reading the book, noting the bias, I would still recommend.

Reading for FUN (and yes, I have an odd idea of fun:) This is a slow read, like walking the land. “Thirty-Two Words for Field, Lost words of the Irish Landscape,” by Manchán Magan is fascinating. How many places in your neighborhood are named after people or seem rather bland. Okay, maybe just mine. In the Irish language “every word has layers of wisdom and insight encoded in it that allow us to delve deeper into the psyche and landscape of the island.” (from the book jacket.)

I am curious about and love to play with language and have recently been listening to some webinars and have been doing some reading on mythology that explore the origins of words…oral and written. My book list keeps growing!

For the curious: One weekly email I receive that is full of words and images…and information is The Marginalian by Maria Popova. She has links to a month’s worth of rabbit holes every Sunday. The week between Christmas and New Year’s Day I watched her limited time offering “The Universe in Verse” recording of a live broadcast made among the Redwoods in the Spring of 2022. Though the broadcast is no longer available, here is the link to watch individual segments. Here is one of my favorites: Bloom, a poem by Emily Dickinson.

Poem to Wrap it Up

I cut several items from this post. They can wait. There is time to allow for the simmering, right? So I will end with this: As I was preparing for the Winter Solstice event I took part in, I selected a few poems that felt appropriate to offer as invitations to walk the labyrinth. One that resonates with me that I have on my “vision” board for the year is Journey by Roselle Angwin.

Journey

The land streams past the window.

The heart asks for both clarity and paradox,

aches equally for freedom and for joining,

being part of and apart.

Oh to be like a tree. To be that horse

dreaming, one hoof delicately pointed,

muzzle lowered and relaxed,

at home completely in the day.

Tell me the truest thing you can,

is what this journey seems to say.