The Truth About Healing and Loss

I really dislike it when people say, "Everything happens for a reason."
They're usually trying to be profound (or smug, or lazy), but that's like saying, "Everything is composed of matter."
So what?!  How is that supposed to be of any real comfort or significance at this moment?

When someone says that, all I hear is a less honest variation of, "I have no idea what the possible explanation could be for why this happened."  And also possibly, "I'm actually just comforting myself that this recent traumatic event is not a sign that life is more unpredictable than I would like to admit.  So let's turn off our brains now, as insurance."  Or maybe even, "You must somehow deserve whatever happened."

My intention is not to be negative or fatalistic - it's simply to be realistic, awake.  Because life is unpredictable and unfair, so pretending it's not seems like ignoring half of what the experience of living is about!  Like walking through life without peripheral vision, or something... wouldn't you miss a lot?  A dismissive, "Everything happens for a reason," seems to chalk adversity up to some whim of the gods that we don't need to concern our little selves about.  It absolves us of any responsibility (or opportunity) to recognize the significance of this experience for ourselves, personally.

No, we can't necessarily divine the cause of any particular event, but we do have the opportunity to choose to define what it means for us.  And if we don't do that, we're just sleepwalking, aren't we? Nobody wants to experience pain, but we know that from time to time it's unavoidable.  So if, from time to time, experiencing pain is part of what it means to be alive - why not try to get something out of it? Because, dammit, if I have to suffer, I might as well look for some kind of bloody value in the experience...

I vastly prefer how the heroic Augusten Burroughs looks at it.
His wise words (possibly because they are hard-won?) really are comforting.
[Emphasis mine.]


"Heal is a television word.
It's satisfying to see somebody who has gone through adversity and come out the other side, healed.
That's almost word for word, how they might introduce a segment on healing on a talk show. 'Come out the other side.'  Like a tunnel.

But here's the thing: there are some things in life from which you do not heal.
The tunnel never ends.  There is no other side of it.

...

This is among the oldest, deepest, most primal truths: the facts of life may be, at times, unbearably painful.  But the core, the bones of life are generous beyond all reason or belief. Those things that ought to kill us do not.  This should be taken as encouragement to continue.

...

Because all of us are made not only of what we have but of what we lost.

And loss is not a subtraction.  As an experience, it is an addition.

Even when we lose a leg or an arm, there's not less of us but more.  Human experience weighs more than human tissue."

- Augusten Burroughs / 'How to Be'

Craig Cutler

Lessons from a Friend

"A friend who dies, it's something of you who dies..."
- Gustav Flaubert

Jenna Adams

I just lost a dear friend.  And Flaubert's was the quote that most closely expressed how I feel.  It seems unjust for his life to end so young, there's just no making sense of it.  My heart hurts for his family.  I still can't truly reconcile it - the idea that he's no longer physically here with us; that our wish for longer with him can't make it so.

He was warm, protective, smart, and really generous - with a hilariously dark sense of humour.  He somehow managed to be silly and quietly dignified at the same time.  Our friendship got off to an amusing start when we met at a party where (after a few drinks) I accidentally tried to introduce him to his sister.  He was one of those rare souls with whom you could have fun while doing absolutely nothing.  I felt understood by him, and it's very hard to accept that he is gone.

As soon as he told me his diagnosis (esophageal cancer), it seemed like I instantly knew his time was very short (because deep down he knew, I think), but it's still hard to believe it could happen this quickly.  It was a beautiful sunny morning a week ago when the news came that he had died - the last day of summer, in fact.  For a second the cheery weather seemed at odds with the knot of grief in my throat.  But after I cried for a few minutes, I had the sensation that the weather was warm... like him.  I had a little thought, like, "Maybe his spirit is in the sunbeams now?" and that seemed fitting.

His self-deprecating sense of humour was still present in his emails from the hospital at the beginning of summer when he first received his diagnosis - he said, "...as you can tell there is plenty of feeling sorry for myself, but the idea will be that if my time is limited to enjoy it as much as I can."  

And...

"I'm not a maudlin person, but sometimes you have to let go.  I just want you to know how important you've been to me, I've enjoyed every moment I've spent with you."

Those words of his are a gift, and I want to keep them in mind, and honour them moving forward.
And think happily of the memories...

So, I've been thinking...  Platitudes like "everything happens for a reason" don't seem comforting, they seem vague and reductive and trite.  I don't know if I'll ever see a reason for Steve to suffer and leave us so young.  Instead, I prefer the matter-of-fact way that novelist Kurt Vonnegut describes the difficult things we mortals wrestle with.  He doesn't try to explain the inexplicable, he simply says, "...And so it goes." (Slaughterhouse-Five)  That feels more right to me.  Sometimes being alive means hurting an awful lot, and there's just no pretty way of saying it.

But... my friend was brave.  So I will try to be, too.  Rather than be maudlin, I can try to think about the last lessons he leaves with me...  

And I guess it's this:  for all of us, our time is limited.  We don't know what that limit is, but we do know our time on this Earthly playground is finite.  I don't want to lose focus on what really matters - which is, in fact, very little.  Our relationships with other people are important, and not a lot else.  Not our egos, or our reputations, or our accomplishments.  I want to try to do right by the people and situations that are entrusted to my temporary care, and to try to leave more of a positive trail than a negative one in my wake.  When dealing with people, I will ask myself, as Suze Orman suggests, not only 'is it true?', but also 'is it kind?', and 'is it necessary?'

There's no making sense of his passing.  But I can accept that a lot of things are out of my control, and moving forward, I will try to sweat them far, far less...

And of those things that are in my control, my goal will be simply to leave anything in at least as good a condition as I inherited it.  To realize that whatever small gifts or talents I have are not mine, but mine to share.
Most of all, I want to savour the present moment and have more fun with it.  I want to really suck the juice out of this lemon while I can - and then leave with no regrets.

Jenna Adams

I can aim for less anxiety and distraction and fear, and more curiosity and engagement and kindness. And I intend to keep laughing.  A lot.  Laughter is like a little portal to heaven, where my friend doesn't seem so far away.

On that note, this traditional Scottish & Irish folk song sung by Ed Sheeran feels like a suitable tribute...  (An early version of the poem is sometimes attributed to Sir Alex Boswell.)

The Parting Glass 

Of all the money that e'er I had
I've spent it in good company
And all the harm that e'er I've done
Alas it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit
To memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all

Of all the comrades that e'er I had
They are sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had
They would wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call
Good night and joy be with you all

A man may drink and not be drunk
A man may fight and not be slain
A man may court a pretty girl
And perhaps be welcomed back again
But since it has so ordered been
By a time to rise and a time to fall
Come fill to me the parting glass
Goodnight and joy be with you all
Goodnight and joy be with you all

Jenna Adams

Cheers to you, Steve.  You were important to me too.

"What we have once enjoyed, we can never lose.  All that we love deeply becomes a part of us."
- Helen Keller

I'm smitten: illustrator Wendy MacNaughton

Wendy MacNaughton's unpretentious art really serves to illustrate (ha!) how simple can be evocative and beautiful.  Amazing - how can she possibly sum up the way I want to approach life in a simple line drawing?  It's not just her art I admire - it's her direct style, her succinctness that comes through in everything she touches.  It seems like she knows the shortest path to making you laugh or cry (or a complicated mix of the two).  I have a feeling that's because she does... she's tapped in to the truth,  and the truth often elicits a visceral response.

In my own life, I'm always trying to see through the haze to the meaningful heart of things.  I don't expect smooth sailing, but I hope for clear vision.  I try to resist all the dazzling bullshit that bombards us on a daily basis, and keeps us disempowered.  Life's short - I want to really see what's going on around me, I don't want to spend it inadvertently distracted from the simple things that really matter.  I love Ms. MacNaughton's low-tech approach to art because it gives such a playful feeling of intimacy and spontaneity, but the deeper philosophical messages in it remind me to trust my instincts and refine my priorities.


For an article on the plight of Haiti:

The aptly titled Longshot Treasure Hunt:

all art by Wendy MacNaughton

See more unpretentious Wendy genius here.

On Happiness...

(*Note: This post was originally a private message that I answered.  The more I thought about their question, the more just giving a pat answer seemed disingenuous.  Who knows what this person was going through to make them reach out?  It's weird how the most important things are often the things no one talks about.  I guess with that in mind, I thought I'd share...)

Q:   Anonymous asked: WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER WHEN YOU ARE IN A BAD OR SAD MOOD?

A:  I'm no expert, but I can take a stab at telling you what works for me...  First off, I try to redirect my focus to good things, to force the big picture into perspective.  Anything that takes me to a different mental place helps: cute animals, music, funny videos, going for a walk in nature, talking to a friend, hugging someone I love, etc…  Or even going to a different physical place - sometimes a new location makes it easier to really take in the magnitude of the sky or a forest or a mountain or the ocean, and I realize how small I am in comparison, and then my problems feel smaller too.  

Not that I always succeed, but I *try* not to take myself too seriously...  Life is truly inexplicable and awkward and frustrating and bizarre at times, and the best coping mechanism I know of is a sense of humour.  That's the first key.  Sometimes it's hard to know whether to laugh or cry, but given those choices, I'd say try to laugh.  Charles Swindoll illustrated that so beautifully when he said, "Pain is inevitable. Misery is optional." I can't tell you how many times I've taken comfort in the fact that retelling my misfortunes in a funny way can at least provide amusement to my friends!  Or else I can just blame them on all the brain injuries I incurred as a kid.  You know how it goes... one minute you're at a sleep-over in a friend's basement, the next minute their parents' ping pong table falls over and knocks you unconscious...

Anyway, a smart guy I know suggested listing 5 good things that have happened today, and that really works to shift your frame of mind.  It helps you see a more balanced picture.  I think gratitude is the second key to happiness - remembering how lucky we are heals a multitude of perceived ills.  Not to belittle what you're going through, but most of us in North America have never experienced hardship (like child slavery) that many around the world have.  I just can't shake this feeling that it's almost bad karma to not appreciate our good fortune, since where we're born is just a lottery that we can't take credit for.  I guess the point is not to allow focusing on what you don't have to rob you of what you do have.

Here’s a great story that I heard about today, for example:

The Mustard Seed shelter: 12 formerly homeless people in Calgary can now call a newly renovated apartment building home!  ...Because they helped renovate it.            http://www.globaltvcalgary.com/video/housing+first/video.html?v=2205039263&p=4&s=dd#video

But, okay - not everything can be laughed off.  A more serious bummer requires just throwing yourself into some activity that consumes a lot of attention or energy.  It can't be something passive, like watching TV, because your thoughts will just drift back to what's upsetting you.  It's gotta be something active like playing sports or a musical instrument, or making something.  It doesn't matter if it's painting a picture, building a shed, or baking a chocolate cake - just anything that takes your attention out of your own head.  Intense card games can require a lot of focus, for instance.   Whenever I visit my Dad, he always wants me to play some kind of epic strategy game.  I usually resist at first, but then I get totally sucked into it. 

Even if you don't play hockey or roller derby or ping pong or guitar, you can get into cheering for your local bands, teams, and theatre (or whatever floats your boat) - they'd probably love to have your support.  Personally, I find volunteering for a good cause - like at a homeless shelter - super uplifting, because helping someone who really needs it is productive, and being productive feels rewarding.  (But I also have friends who foster animals, etc.)  Basically it reminds you that everyone has their struggles, and seeing some worse than your own is humbling, and makes it impossible to feel sorry for yourself.  And there's something about helping to alleviate someone else's suffering, that also magically heals your own.  It's mysterious, but it's true - I've experienced it firsthand.  I think it's because we're all connected in this human race.  (Between you and me, I think it's more of a gong show than an organized race, so... we're all connected in this human gong show!)  Just don't for a second assume that someone who appears less fortunate than you isn't able to teach you a lot.  There's a cool Scottish proverb that says, "Do not judge by appearances; a rich heart may be under a poor coat."

If humour and gratitude are the first and second keys to happiness, then I find compassion is the third.  They seem to have an inverse relationship to anger or resentment - if you're increasing gratitude and compassion in your life, anger and bitterness are automatically forced to recede.  I guess like Superman and Clark Kent, they can't occupy the same space at the same time?  Anyway, the point is to remember that you're part of a community.  Isolating yourself with those sad or bitter thoughts can only result in a shame spiral.  I really think self pity and resentment work like acid to corrode our souls...  

And when all of the above fails… courage, my friend.  Courage is the final key.  Some emotions, like grief, can't be sped up.  They're with you for a long time.  (Anyone who's lost a loved one knows that.)  My philosophy is that life is like a topographical map - the low points are almost necessary to throw the high points into relief.  It wouldn’t be right to take it out on other people - but sometimes... maybe we just have to feel bad for a little while?  Maybe that's a natural part of the human experience...  And trying to avoid facing it (ie: escape reality, escape consciousness) can lead to situations with worse consequences in the end.  

Instead, maybe it's healthier to just acknowledge your feelings, and allow yourself to have them.  Some people find writing in a journal helps to process.  (Don't be too hard on yourself - with something like grief or overcoming addiction, it's likely logical that you feel the way you do.  Maybe see if you can find someone who's gone through something similar, and ask them how they're managing.)  But without some pain, would we know how to appreciate joy?  When Abraham Lincoln said, "This, too, shall pass", he was referring to both good times AND bad times, since it's equally true for both.  Even aside from any ideas about adversity building strength of character, I doubt happiness would have the same value if it were a static state of being.  

I think this sums it up:

"Happiness is the most natural thing in the world when you have it, and the slowest, strangest, most impossible thing when you don’t. It’s like learning a foreign language: You can think about the words all you want, but you’ll never be able to speak it until you suck up your courage and say them out loud." - Dan Wells

Despite what the advertising media will tell you, in the end, happiness is essentially a choice not an entitlement, and it's our own responsibility.  Nobody owes it to us.  I'm not saying it's an easy choice!  Sometimes it's really not.  I'm guessing it's a pretty common impulse to want to tune out by getting drunk or using whatever numbs you.  But the thing is, when you come back, your problems are still right there where you left them.  Plus, I kinda think that anything we might try to use to anesthetize ourselves from emotional pain, will probably automatically anesthetize us from happiness as well...  And that's not a trade-off I'm willing to accept.  Even though life's challenges can be intimidating, I'd rather try to believe that I'm equipped with the skills to survive pain, than to live in fear of experiencing it.

"It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.”

(From Invictus by William Ernest Henley)