being unsettled as the status quo (yes, that is ironic)
allowing my beliefs about Grief to shift yet again
friends ask me if i’ve settled into my new abode and i reflectively answer “yes.” upon reflection i realize i am unintentionally lying…to myself. to be settled. settled in. in a routine. in rhythmic alignment with the clock. productive. “productive.” a word that peeves me to no end. is there an end? i pushed myself in unpacking ALL the boxes in the early days of my move. returned borrowed packing supplies. stowed away the rest. and yet i am unsettled. still. being unsettled is unsettling. still seeking stillness. stillness elusive. the womb of winter beckons. i claw at old routines seeking stability. and then i paused and
realized
these are not settled times (and what “time” really is settled?)
my move simply amplified my awareness of these troubled waters. the entangled waters we all swim in. the earth we are invited to dance on. dance with.
in the busyness of moving and the additional to and fro of holiday travel, i feel woefully behind in my participation in the We Will Dance With Mountains: Vunja! (WWDWM) gatherings i began in september. so the last couple of days i’ve been “catching up”…and going down some other rabbit holes. yikes! kind of like sticking your finger in an electrical outlet…ideas surging…so much dancing around in my body. so many dandelion seeds cast about on winter winds.
the generosity of the program in bringing in wise teachers plus the deep invitations offered continue to push me to reflect on perspectives and beliefs. how deeply held are my basic assumptions about how the “world works”? like those items i found in the back of my closets i had not looked at in years…i wondered why i still kept them. and, yes, surprisingly, some did get moved (oof, this can be seen both literally and metaphorically. some “things” are just hard to let go of.)
as someone whose primary call is to come alongside those who are grieving, i find Grief asking me to drop so much of what i’ve been taught. asking me to dance and play with it. to be on an expansive journey. i listen to how Bayo Akomolafe engages with Grief, sometimes as a trickster, pushing back on how Grief has been colonized. as something to be pathologized and productivized.
recently Bayo was in conversation with Professor Sa’ed Atshan, and Cecilie Surasky in a session titled, Across Lines: Grief, hosted by Othering & Belonging Institute. though the war in Gaza brought the conversation into being, the conversation sought to move beyond expected dialog. it dove into the universality of loss. of Grief. here is what Bayo offered in an email i received:
“Yes, grief is how loss travels. It is the choreography of loss in its world-navigating, world-upsetting circuits. Grief is an impersonal, potentially decolonizing force. Grief infiltrates structures, decays edges, and forces new postures of reverence and irreverence. Grief is not mere sadness; it is mutiny against established patterns. Perhaps a little part of all of us, regardless of the sides we claim, is co-creating a commons marked by grief.”
if you have time, i recommend taking time to view this conversation on YouTube.
Grief and loss as they move in the world are unsettling. tired of being contained and structured. lament has also come up in Bayo’s talks. lamenting…something i’ve included in workshops and worked on with individuals. something that has a structure and form but at its root is about wailing and release. about being with each other in the depths. about communal grieving.
imagine not following “the structure” of a lament (note to self) but when you came upon a weeping human you joined in their weeping instead of offering a tissue or interrupting to ask for details (a disruption of their raw Grief).
what if you wandered into a “big box store” and news images of parents devastated by the death of their children where playing on the 72” screens brought you to your knees in solidarity right there in the store. you wailing. your tears asking others to join in, caught in the wave of universal loss. have we lost that capacity? i don’t know that i would do it in all honesty. the belief that showing that kind of strong emotion in public is “wrong,” is deeply embedded inside me. afraid of what people may think. what about you?
in the most recent gathering of WWDWM we engaged with imagination and play (perhaps you remember doing that as a child!) learning, in part, from children. the fruitfulness of “getting lost”…even in a place you know well. looking at common objects with new perspective by asking an object what it might be asking of you. recalling a magical object from your childhood. reminding us that for children, the boundary between this world and the other world is thin. like my work with those at end of life. we don’t have to be at the beginning or end of our lives to reengage with the imaginal, liminal world. this session was a sweet reminder.
our wise teachers for this session were Dr. Penny Hay, an artist and educator and one of her signature projects includes schools without walls. Dr. Hannah McDowall, Director of Canopy: a social imagination project (do head over and watch the video!) and Andrew Amondson, an artist and filmmaker and founder of Playful Nature.
what i was thankfully reminded of in this session was when we let children “go” without interrupting them, they create intricate worlds and communities. they have an infinite amount of curiosity. and we, as adults, do have the capacity to return to that “childlike state” of openness and imagination if we are willing to let go of stale narratives. i wonder what peace negotiations would look like if high ranking diplomats sat and listened while children imagined their way toward shared community. i suspect we would have less borders. less strife. more shared resources. anyway, the session was a reminder to remain curious and playful, even in the midst of suffering. especially in the midst of suffering. to be able to dwell in that tension, messy as it is. Grief as it travels with us through loss, seems to be asking that of us.
there is more gestating below the surface. an entanglement of ideas with no language yet. just wanting to play and create. and a strong urge to sleep. to steep in it at the edges. trusting if i roll off into space i will fall, or not, and land, or not, in the twist of a kaleidoscope that is this shifting world. i am discovering that life was never stable. that was in illusion.
even my beloved labyrinth…
i walked one last weekend and, though i always tell folks there is no “right way,” i tend to follow the path in to the center and then follow the same path back out, usually with an “intention”. this time i followed the path in, but when i left the center, i felt a strong urge to walk on the “non-path” outline, leap between spaces and step on the cracks on the labyrinth. then wander around and toss the ginkgo leaves that were resting around the outer edges. “play! dance! fall between the cracks!” the labyrinth said. what is sacred can shift. everything is shifting.
everything is shifting. a final note. while we were away visiting family in Southern Oregon, we drove to Crater Lake. a place create by instability. once a mountain that collapse from eruption into a crater. cold, clear with snow on the ground, walking around the rim was anything but stable or settled. i’m meant to be unsettled. and i will still seek the womb of winter to crawl into…on my hands and knees, in the dark. what are you seeking? what is shifting for you?
in unsettled, winter gratitude,
anne
ps-my sweet mother-in-law, who i mentioned was on hospice in my last post, is it ever to early to do a life review?, slipped peacefully beyond the veil november 20th.
another ps-if you are unfamiliar with Bayo Akomolafe’s work, he was the closing keynote speaker at Othering & Belonging Institute’s recent 2023 conference. Here is a link to his talk: Reflections on Democracy and Belonging.