belonging: desire for connection

swimming in Grief. reaching for Joy

Magnolia in riotous commotion as Spring warmth awakens the buds. photos by anne richardson

dear sojourners,

as clouds depart and Spring arrives in line with the upcoming equinox in the Pacific NW, even this Winter loving human is ready for our warming days. the “always accurate weather app” has six suns in a row, though i’m hesitant to put too much faith in the visual promise. still, the yellow trumpets of Daffodils are lifting my spirits and Magnolia outside my kitchen window is in riotous bloom.

i needed this upswell of Joy, for a lot has been stirring. folks close to me have had a death or illness of loved ones wrapping them in sorrow. one of my mentors, someone who had a tremendous influence on how i engage in my call, died last week. and there have been other losses in my heart-circle, some a little farther out but still within outstretched-arms reach. i feel as though i’m swimming in a pool of loss. i find myself needing to nap in the middle of the day. i remind myself to offer kindness to my own heart. to stop and rest.

and, as if you need reminding, it is the four year anniversary of the pandemic, which i blogged about on my business website, Nurture Your Journey (NYJ), last week: Preparing Our Hearts for Grief Anniversaries: COVID Edition. i included some resources, if you are feeling the lingering effects of COVID-19 in your own life, plus some ways to reflect on our collective and/or your personal journey.

amid Grief heaviness, i’ve been pondering the concept of “belonging.” it is a topic i spiral back to over and over again. i think it is tangled in my bones. belly. breath. blood. circulating through me even in childhood. a deep need to belong. i was one of those “late bloomers” wondering why “everyone” else seemed to have “it” (whatever “it" was at the time) all figured out. they were probably as clueless as i was, but somehow “looked” more put together.

these days others look at me and think i’ve “got it together.” i’ve been told this. i learned early on to tamp down my more enthusiastic emotions, though tears rise to the surface freely. embarrassment was/is my co-pilot, more than willing to take over the controls (if i think i’ll look embarrassed, i’ll hestitate to try new things, sigh.) anger was stowed in the glove box.

later i practiced “letting go” until there was nothing left to hang on to. just calm waters on the surface. and while i believe in the validity of “letting go,” i can take things too far. intellectualize to the point my heart is shouting, “hey, remember me!” it becomes deflection from paying attention. i am appreciating the Substack, Shenanigans and Stuff, by Katy Wheatley. though my journey is different than hers, it is stirring up some settled muck. good. a lot to reflect on.

anyway, back to belonging…which is something i always wanted…to belong.

in 2019 i embarked on a sojourn to the UK in part to return some of my mother’s ashes to her homeland after her death in 2018 (if you are interested, you can read about my journey on my NYJ blog, Sojourning with Grief, march-august 2019.) i felt a strong sense of longing as a first generation kid of immigrant parents for the Land they left. with both my parents deceased, the thread had frayed. i wanted to walk the Land and hear the stories rise up beneath my feet. hear what River, Birds,Trees, and other Being had to say. i yearned for connection. it was a pivotal time in my life.

influential, even before the itch to plan a trip started, were two of Sharon Blackie’s books, If Women Rose Rooted and The Enchanted Life plus engagement in some of her courses. they shifted my understanding of “belonging,” expanding it to include what belonging to Land looked like. when i was younger, belonging would have meant being part of various social groupings…religious institutions, work, clubs, hobbies, etc. being around folks with similar interests. traditional ways humans “belong.”

as i age, expanding that to include my connection to place has been huge. a spiritual realignment. i have been on a journey the last seven or so years that continues to take me from being human-centric to (trying and often failing) be Land/Earth/Other Being Centric. sometimes (often times?) i get confused. how do i “belong” in this expansive context? how do i listen to Oak, River, Ocean, Robin not so much asking for wisdom or a story or to receive “something,” but to be with as part of community. in a symbiotic relationship. i am beginning to understand that i need to breakdown and compost more of my beliefs before i can truly “belong” to this Land i now abide on. no answers here today (or any day really.) just big big questions…

i’m curious what your thoughts are on belonging. what are your experiences? how would you define it (or is it definable?)

this post has been glitchy as i wrote and rewrote and rewrote it. it took a different, more personal direction than anticipated, but i had to follow the heart’s leading. i deleted pondering on cults and how they lure folks in with a need to belong. an incomplete section as i tried to make sense of an long essay by Báyò Akómoláfé, The Children of the Minotaur: Democracy & Belonging at the End of the World. i gave up. but i hold on to one small sentence in Báyò’s essay, “grief becomes atmospheric.“

perhaps that is what is stirring on this fourth anniversary of the pandemic. on how living on a planet where human famine is likely once again after being close to elimination a couple of decades ago. where Whales, Elephants and other Beings grieve. where my friends are immersed in their own sorrows. where i have my own sadness.

and… and Joy is there too. seen in emerging Spring. in Bird song. first bud. freshly turned Soil. even in lament. for what is lament but the releasing of our Grief songs, strengthening our heart muscle, expanding our lungs to breath in both Beauty and Pain.

reaching for Joy. photo by anne richardson

Joy called me over on a walk yesterday, arms stretched toward azure Sky. nothing was said, just simple assurance that Joy was present, even in the atmospheric currents of Grief.

May you find nuggets (or expansive Oceans) of Joy wherever you are on your journey today.

in gratitude,

anne