The dwelling place of joy and sorrow…
By Dr. Tom Garcia
Irish poet and playwright, Oscar Wilde, wrote, “Where there is sorrow, there is holy ground.”
Recently my friend, Jeff Markel, passed away. Jeff was like an older brother to me, a mentor. I was able to be with his family, my wife and daughter, and a few close friends, for a ceremony to see Jeff off into the Mystery.
Jeff was a bright light. He had friends all over the world. His intelligence and sense of humor were only surpassed by his love and generosity. He had a huge heart. It was a blessing to know him.
I am no stranger to death, having lost both parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and several close friends.
With each passing of a loved one, gone from this life, I feel tempered by the experience, less fearful and more accepting. I am compelled to go deeper within to a dwelling place of sorrow and joy that could only be called holy ground.
In this hallowed place, there’s a sense of reaffirmation, a more profound connection to the Source of Life; an abiding gratitude for the true gift it is to be alive. Practically speaking, I am humbled by the specter of my own death, and more grateful for my life.
As loved ones make their transition, we have an opportunity to deepen our relationship to the Source of Life. It’s my belief that those we love who have left this physical plane still hover near us and remain in our vicinity in a way that defies explanation. Closer than ever, they become our angels and guardians.
Truly, we are never alone.
The French philosopher Montaigne wrote, “We do not know where death awaits us; so let us wait for it everywhere.”
Figuratively, I think of throwing my arm around the shoulder of Death and pulling it in close to say, “I know you are there and I am not afraid.”
For me, to be alive is to experience loss and to sorrow for something. The nature of life is one of impermanence and change; in short, death. Every day we experience things that threaten our peace of mind. But we can learn to accept these upsets with equanimity, whatever their magnitude, because ultimately they are small in comparison.
Our culture, the way most of us are brought up, leaves us far removed from the experience of death and wholly unprepared to deal with its eventuality. Intellectually we know death is inevitable, yet we struggle mightily when it happens to those closest to us. And it’s ok to be awash in grief for a time. We must allow ourselves to grieve, and to grieve well.
With regard to our own death, most of us never know when, or where, or how–it’s a great mystery. But we do not have to carry this awareness alone. We can lean into each other right to the end. It’s possible to imagine that when we cross the final threshold, gentle hands await to receive us on the Other Side.
Every transition holds a choice for us–to let go of the control we think we have, surrender to the unknown, and trust the way that opens before us, or to hold on in fear.
When we cross over from this life into the next, the burden of a body is shrugged off and the spirit is free to soar. It continues on its journey to realms that exist only in our dreams, but never far from the loved ones who’ve been left behind.
One of the great gifts of grief is that it changes us. Tempered by loss, grief helps us to mature and more deeply appreciate life.
Grief seasons us.
To grieve well is a deep practice out of which arises a fierce determination to live with more joy and greater acceptance.
In the midst of grief, we might remember our reason for being. When we question Life, we might remember that Life gives Itself without question, to be lived fully, and that’s the purpose of Life.
Love and Blessings,
Tom |
