From a tender place

This week I come to you from a tender place.

This week is full of emotions. My brother-in-law, Chris, died last Sunday. He was deeply loved, and the family, of course, is in shock. The tears seem endless. The grief comes in slow big waves that seem to overtake the moment. Then, as the tears flow, the energy shifts, and the Heartmind travels to places of memory and emotion. Stories come to thought as do ideas of what could have been different. The heart that is full of grief seems to howl. A strong emotion can take over and silence every thought in the moment so that all there is is emotion. Grief is very stressful, and the grieving body can hurt (and have trouble breathing and sleeping and eating). The family makes sense of what is happening, because, suddenly, life, the universe, everything have become completely different.

I am saying my Qigong prayers silently as we go through this, reading poetry and uplifting texts, repeating to myself either silently or out loud words that connect me to others: light, wisdom, compassion, dignity, equanimity, forgiveness, gratitude, humility, integrity, justice, and, of course, love. This week, I am still doing and teaching Qigong and Tai Chi practice as I digest and process the feelings. I imagine my teaching is different this week, maybe softer, maybe more urgent on a level, too. Because I have sat with family just listening and being present as we hold and contain the grief together, I feel myself a little tender right now and clearer about what truly matters. The emotions have been intense, and we have also experienced a lot of kindness and goodwill. There have been great kindnesses shown to us in the form hugs and smiles and people reaching out during this time.

It is a great honor to witness the human experience in its purest form, a birth and a death, the great joy and deep sorrow of being alive. Up close and in these intense moments of being and seeing, the heart opens, and the mind seems to expand to include all of humanity.

Even though Chris had been suffering with ill health for a while, the family was just not ready for his sudden death last Sunday. In fact, we were all holding intent that he was getting stronger. In fact, the doctors did tell us that Chris’s strength was coming back the week before. In fact, Chris touched so many lives and brought so many people together throughout his life, because he was a bright light. So: it was a shock when he died. I am convinced that this kind of big loss makes you feel all the losses, big and small, you have ever experienced in your life all at once. You see it all, and you get philosophical: endings happen (and so do beginnings). Loss can seem so random, painful, and unfair, and the emotions and grief that follow can be complicated. It is important to reach out to others and move through events like this in order to remember how precious life is and also to remember that life can change at any moment.

What is especially strange for me personally is that this week is also the week of the 21st anniversary of wedding my husband, Michael. I met Michael 25 years ago at a long distance group bike ride in Livermore. It was my first group bike ride like that, and I was a little intimidated. His was a friendly and welcoming face back then, and he still is a beautiful and loving presence in my life. This anniversary is something I am happy about, and it makes me feel immense gratitude even in the face of loss.

Being human is complicated. There can be time and space for all these things, these feelings, these events, all at once.