... learn to turn away from the harmful negatives in your life and, instead, turn toward your healing and your inner peace.
"...when our physical body passes away, the inner essence of our being simply travels on . . . continuing to help from the other side."
Grief may come in waves: sometimes barely discernable, like a light drizzle in the background of our days. Other times, it arrives in a sudden heavy downpour of sadness, anger, regret, or fear.
Do we know how to set healthy boundaries to keep poisonous words and harmful behaviors from entering the sacred space of our lives?
During this holiday season, may our hearts be filled with peace. May our thoughts, words, and actions bring happiness—to ourselves, to others, and to the world. By listening, deeply, with love.
Rituals give us an opportunity to share the stories of our friends and relatives who have passed. By joining together in community, we add value and meaning to our own lives...
Our inner strength is always there. It is there while we clear the fog of our minds. It is there while we heal the ache of our soul. It is there in the calm as well as in the rumblings of a fierce storm. It is there in the quiet of our heart. It is there in the holding on and in the letting go.
At times, the world’s chaos may feel overpowering, especially when we are facing a stressful life situation. While we cannot always control outside circumstances, there are things we can do for ourselves to lessen our inner turmoil.
When we hear of tragic loss (or experience it ourselves) words are often inadequate to express the depth of our sorrow. Nothing makes it better. When people we dearly love die unexpectedly, there’s no time to mentally or emotionally prepare for their passing.
So much of life and death remains a mystery. We know our time here is limited. We know our loved ones will not live forever. Yet, we forget how to tenderly care for the heart. We forget how to fully live each moment.
What we learn during our brief sojourn on this planet is our greatest source of wisdom. Our capacity for continual expansion lights the way toward healing and toward wholeness. Always, our inner knowing is our strength. Affirm daily: I am loved. I am worthy. I am here for a reason.
Recently, I’ve discovered how beneficial physical movement can be for rejuvenating my personal wellbeing. I don’t mean activities like rushing around on the job or hurrying off to run errands. I mean intentional, mindful body movements that result in feeling better.
When we lose someone we love, there are no simple solutions or ten effortless steps we can follow to “fix” our sorrow (or the sorrow of our friends and family). There are also no magic words or religious gurus—however well intended—that can make everything suddenly better.
We are here on this planet for a reason. Our gifts and our talents are needed, now more than ever. As Gandhi so aptly said, “What you do may seem insignificant, but it is most important that you do it.”
While the intensity of our grief may lessen somewhat with time, our love stays strong, powerful, and constant. Like a full moon shining bright in the night sky, love is the beacon we follow.
There is just that: Joining together with our friends, family, or neighbors. Remembering what matters. Helping one another when times get tough. Making mistakes. Learning. Getting up again the next day. Starting over. Saying thanks to those people who help us along.
What can we do in times of tragic loss? We can continue to light candles, we can pray, we can sing, we can sob, we can dance, we can paint, we can write, we can rebuild, and we can gather our loved ones close. We can listen to our heart’s call.
This holiday season, try to create rituals and ceremonies that celebrate what you hold sacred in your life and in your heart. Be intentional about finding ways to honor your truth. Most importantly, be gentle and be kind – to others, and especially to yourself.
In ancient times, people gathered around the warmth of the fire to share tales of their ancestors: stories of brave conquests, legendary heroes, and tragic deaths. In the telling are lessons of courage in the face of adversity, hope in the midst of defeat, and enduring love in the face of death.
What I’ve learned from the many people I interviewed is that we don’t “get over” the death of someone we love. We also can’t fix or placate the intense sorrow we feel. Our experiences of loss — like our experiences of joy — become significant strands in the web of our life story.
When we find ourselves on the unfamiliar shores of loss ... We can spend however much time we need there, perhaps finding solace beneath the vast night sky, a bight full moon, or the soft glow of the setting sun. We can allow ourselves to feel whatever we feel — no right, no wrong, and no judgment.