“When we are brave enough to sit with our pain, it deepens our ability to sit with the pain of others. It shows us how to love them.” — Valarie Kaur
There is an ancient Inuit fable called Skeleton Woman, made popular by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, who wrote Women Who Run with the Wolves.
Here is a synopsis: A young woman is thrown into the ocean where she lives for decades as a skeleton. A fisherman casts his line and snags the skeleton. Thinking he has caught a huge fish he eagerly throws out a net and reels it in. The woman tries to disentangle herself from the net but quickly gets more entwined. When the bones emerge, the fisherman screams in terror, grabs his line and flees to his snow house not realizing the woman skeleton is still attached. Later, when he lights his whale-oil lamp, he is surprised to see her all tangled and crumpled on the snow floor. Perhaps the lamplight softens her features, or perhaps he is lonely, but somehow he now sees her in a new way. A feeling of kindness comes over him. Slowly, gently, like a mother toward a child, he untangles her from the fishing line and places the bones carefully back together, covering her with fur to keep her warm. He falls asleep and dreams something sad during the night. A tear falls from his eye. Wanting nothing more than to come back to life, and feeling very thirsty, she reaches over and drinks his tear while he sleeps. She holds his heart, gently beating it as a drum while softly singing. As she does so, her flesh returns and her body is restored. They wake the next morning wrapped around each other in a good and lasting way.
Inuit fables traditionally focus on the cycle of life, death and resurrection. This one also offers a powerful metaphor for what it means to stay with grief rather than flee from it. If we can allow ourselves to stay with difficult feelings like pain and sadness rather than dismiss them, if we can see our suffering and that of another in a warmer light, we can emerge from grief with a greater sense of connection to ourselves and others.
The journey through grief is indeed a very painful process. We often run from, shut down or rush past our feelings – especially when they are overwhelming. It’s human nature. As psychologist and mindfulness educator Tara Brach, Ph.D. states: “Fear and aversion are hardwired into us; we all do that. But we also have wiring to slow down and pause — to open.”
By shining a light on that which terrified him, and by staying present, the fisherman sees skeleton woman as less threatening, and he is drawn to attend to her. This allows him to then grieve through a sad dream, shedding a restorative tear. It is the same process for us. We need to move closer to our feelings when they arise, using curiosity to compassionately explore what they are telling us. This gently loosens our grip on doing, so we can settle into the deeper wisdom of being and becoming.
Grief is a sign of love that mattered and still does. It moves through us like other oscillations of life — chaos to order, contraction to release, disruption to calm. It ebbs and flows. To be able to hold both joy and sorrow to emerge from the grief journey is vital. Constantly dwelling on despair can prevent you from functioning, while never facing it means it cannot change.
If we shy away from our own anxiety-provoking feelings, we tend to dismiss them in others too by deflecting, distracting or minimizing. Even well intended reassurance can sometimes be experienced as distancing. We prevent the very kind of connection and conversation that’s needed to heal. The grief journey is less lonely and scary when we can share it collectively, especially with those who are able to sit beside us in our grief.
Here is a process by which you can learn to be with your feelings more easily. It’s a mindful meditation developed by Michelle McDonald and Tara Brach called R.A.I.N. – Recognize, Allow, Investigate, Nurture.
Start where you are.
R – Recognize: Ask yourself, “What is happening inside me right now?” Name whatever you are noticing. It might be a mixture of feelings or body sensations.
A – Allow: Can I Iet this be here? Give yourself an intention to just let it be. Say: “This belongs.” “This belongs” doesn’t mean you will like it. It just exists; it is part of reality. Open space for it. If you can’t allow that, that’s OK. Don’t judge it. You might then simply say, “I can’t allow this.” Say it with kindness.
I – Investigate: Begin a process of asking yourself some questions with gentle curiosity. Notice which question connects most. Something like: Which feeling do I need to tend to? What am I pushing away that needs my care? What am I unwilling to feel? What do I believe about this? Pay attention to your body. Although these beliefs are cognitive, they are often experienced somatically too. Notice the expression on your face. (Your face may express what you are feeling.) Go slowly. Go gently – put your hand on your heart and breathe. Send a message to yourself: “I’m here; I want to invite this feeling into awareness.” Tell the feeling that you want to understand what it is trying to tell you. Take time and be patient.
N – Nurture: Say to yourself, “I’m here.” Ask your feelings what they need from you. Your compassion? Loving kindness? Forgiveness? Understanding? Acceptance? Maternal holding? You may have to experiment, customizing as you go. Hold your belly and your heart if that helps ground you. Ask, “How do you want me to be with you?” While you’re in this open state an image may come to you or a mental whisper, or a feeling of safety or release.
By taking the time to sit with your grief, you may feel more tenderness, more love and openness. If there is ever a time to meet yourself and others with extra grace, it is while grieving the loss of a loved one.