How Can We Entertain Our Feelings of Grief?
When it comes to difficult feelings, one of the questions I have is how can we entertain feelings of grief? We have an energy crisis, and I am not referring to an oil shortage.
I am thinking about all the energy it takes to keep the doors and windows of our hearts closed against the cold winds and drenching rains of grief.
We all have stories of how we were taught to manage feelings, whether from our parents or society: ”Big boys don’t cry” or “Get a grip. It’s not the end of the world!”
These parents/mentors/teachers did us no favors, and I propose that if we had been taught from the cradle to grieve fully when we encounter loss, we wouldn’t have grown up to have such mixed feelings about tears. Am I weak? Am I trying to manipulate someone?
So what do you do when given a devastating diagnosis, say of ALS or Cancer? Or maybe you have lost a job or a sense of hope. Is it possible to begin again?
Yes. But not without giving grief plenty of room in your heart.
Grief is greedy
Grief is greedy. It wants all of you. It does not want to share time or space with the joy that has been pushed aside.
I had plenty of joy in my life until my father got sick and died. Those things that brought me joy— my family, my little farmhouse, the sunrise— all continued, but grief grew big enough to overshadow these joys, and I was no longer able to access them. Eventually, I came up for air, but it was a long while before I was ready to begin again.
Grief is thoughtless
Grief barges in just when you are beginning to enjoy life again. Grief worries that it doesn’t have any strength so it arrives at your weakest point to maintain its hold on power. My suggestion (as is Elizabeth Gilbert’s and many wise therapists) is to offer grief the gift of hospitality.
“Oh, hi! It’s you again! Here, come and sit and let’s get to know each other.”
The Guest House
Hospitality is the art of welcoming strangers, and in ancient times was one of the most important values you could have. Following is “The Guest House, by Rumi, or you can click here to listen to this poem.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
— Jalaluddin Rumi, translation by Coleman Barks (The Essential Rumi)
The Guest House was on my refrigerator for many years to remind me to be grateful for whatever was in my life.
I discovered that the energy it takes to hold the door shut against difficult feelings (“dark thoughts, shame, malice”) is the energy I could have used to celebrate life, enjoy beauty, and revel in Mystery.
How to Entertain Difficult Feelings
What is it in our culture today that says if something is negative, you mustn’t entertain it? Ever! And so we go through the loss of something or someone very close to our heart, and then when asked, “How are you?” we look up and say ‘I’m fine, thank you.”
Who are we kidding? Deep sadness may not be an easy guest to entertain, but if we push it away, it will keep knocking until it is honored as part of the family.
So exactly, how do we entertain deep sorrow instead of locking it out?
How might you meet a stranger who arrives at your door?
“Who are you, and what do you want?”
“My name is Grief, and I want to be heard.”
“Hush! I am very busy and don’t have time for you. Please go away. Perhaps you can return later when I am ready for you. ”
And then we shut the door, turning to attend to whatever seemed more important at that time.
And grief waits right there on the top step. Waiting for a sign of life. Grief is prepared to wait for any opening.
If you open the door, what then? Will grief move in and take over your life?
Quite the contrary. Grief only wants to be heard, to be acknowledged. To be accepted. When Grief finds that there is a guestroom in your heart, it pretty much stays in its place and doesn’t ask a whole lot.
Allowing Difficult Feelings into the Conversation
I find that the best way to communicate with this occupant of my guest room is by writing. I can write scathing or ranting words, and Grief will say, “I understand.”
I might do nothing but shed tears, and Grief will say, “Yes, let them out.”
If I pound my pillow, Grief will not interfere the way people might because they are uncomfortable with my feelings.
I know Grief as honest, authentic, reliable, and faithful.
We have an unusual relationship, Grief and me. After providing hospitality for a while, I am letting go of my fear of these difficult feelings. Grief stays quietly in my guestroom and no longer has to pound on a door to get my attention.
I wish I had learned how to welcome Grief years ago. I might have avoided all the pain and destruction that attended to Grief pounding relentlessly on my door.
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