Learning to grieve & #throwingthenetopen on my comfort zone

I read once that in parts of Africa when someone dies they will wail their grief to the skies. How I longed for this when my father died because so much was kept in. The British spirit of stiff upper lip was accepted as gospel and on we went as a family. Our sorrows left for when the bedroom door closed and the lights turned off and only then, in the dark, away from others would we allow ourselves to cry and mourn the loss of the man we loved. This is a post about learning to grieve and trust the process that followed.  

On holiday with my ex Ben and our daughter Eve in July I attended a 3-day workshop called the Awakening of Love. And it made me wonder - is it possible that another’s wail can be experienced as our own? For just as I was struggling to access my own bellow, another participant released theirs. And just as I danced timidly around feelings that felt too powerful, another courageously roared out their own, reminding me of possibilities within.

On this workshop bellows and cries and wails and shouts were collectively shared and experienced. And rather then judge each other, we began, slowly and with more trust to #throwthenetopen on our trust levels and started to understand each other - made possible when someone had the guts to share where they really were. Which reminded me of something Buddha said - that "true love is born from understanding."

"Dance Like No One Is Watching."

In one exercise we were given blindfolds and over the space of an hour were invited to move as we wanted, on the safety of a soft low rise mattress as music played around us. We were encouraged to use our voices – if we wanted. Encouraged by others more confident then me, where at first I felt quite shy, I bellowed and shouted and my arms (not the strongest part of my body) were filled with this Herculean strength, as if I were bellowing from the pit of the world. And it felt extraordinary to feel and dance with what I normally repress.

So that in the end I yelled so much I laughed. And I laughed so much I cried. Sweet wet tears that brought with them the essence of what touches me in life, reminding me of a truth whose resonance relaxes me body and mind: we are all the same. No one is better. No one is worse. You and me and him and her, we are all the same.

It’s just fear that makes us think otherwise.

Please do share with friends and family if you feel it will resonate with them.