May 2020

Dear Friends,

My work in grief ministry has given me the opportunity to observe very personal, and at the same time, “universal” responses to loss. And into that mix, I bring my own unique experiences of loss. One thing that is painfully clear, losses know other losses. Maybe they’re all part of the same web, in the way that trees are interconnected under the grass in my backyard.

Our maple trees are being “cleaned up.” That translates into 1) cut out dead and dangerous branches off of five trees and 2) remove one of our trees and our neighbor’s tree. I sit here in the middle of our house, listening to the sounds of the tree’s “death,” I feel loss.

On Friday, May 29, 2020, that isn’t the only loss I’m experiencing. My soul vibrates with the losses that surround me: Three hundred and sixty thousand people have died from Covid-19 around the world. The city of Minneapolis is screaming with agony. Our black brothers are being hunted.  Individuals and families are facing hunger, homelessness, illness, and deep despair. Our fear of dying has moved way past a literary question, into a haunting echo. Our, seemingly, collective lack of trust IN ANYTHING has infiltrated our very private conversation with trust. All of these movements in our collective consciousness are losses.

Our experiences of loss vibrate together like the caterpillar’s silks connecting their chrysalis homes. The trees , clamoring down around me, are pulling at my heartstrings, and as a result, I am vibrating with other losses in my life, all at varying frequencies.

This tree work will end. The yard will be cleaned up, the newly discovered tree rot will become a pat on the back. I will sit outside, ask the trees to forgive me, and enjoy a few extra rays from the Sun. At the same time, I will be holding my brothers and sisters, in their anguish, a little more closely to my heart. As I experienced our collective grief, I named their experiences. I do not return to the Land of Hope alone. I carry the hearts of those I’ve met in prayer with me. 

People ask me, “What can I do? How can I, possibly make a difference?” Our sense of helplessness is a common response to loss and it is everywhere. I know what I have to do, I have to change my daily routine to include quiet time with the God of my understanding. I have to experiment with many other names for the Divine, to develop and deepen our love-relationship. I have to surrender into the Love that Knows No End, surrender everything, even if it’s just for that time of morning prayer.  I have to trust that my singular effort to shine the light of Love in my life could somehow support you in your life. I have to proclaim that we, like the trees, share an interconnection.… my brother’s pain is my pain, my sisters joy, I share too. Our souls

“experience a coming together, a communion of hearts, knowing that, as philosopher William James puts it, ‘the trees also commingle their roots in the darkness underground, and the islands also hang together through the ocean’s bottom.’ ” *

Let us embrace the idea that in addition to collective grief, we also experience collective soul, collective hope. We have the capacity to share “good vibes,” the Spirit…. Love. Let us, together, bring our broken hearts into moments of connection. Let us rest with the God of our understanding and the abiding strength found in union. Let us say, “Yes!” to Hope. I close with words from Rev. Cynthia Bourgeault from Mystical Hope, to nourish your relationship with Hope as you, dear friends, nourish mine.

“Hope’s home is at the innermost point in us, and in all things. It is a quality of aliveness. It does not come at the end, as the feeling that results from a happy outcome. Rather, it lies at the beginning, as a pulse of truth that . . . will send us forth in hope, regardless of the physical circumstances of our lives. Hope fills us with the strength to stay present, to abide in the flow of the Mercy no matter what outer storms assail us. It is entered always and only through surrender; that is, through the willingness to let go of everything we are presently clinging to. And yet when we enter it, it enters us and fills us with its own life—a quiet strength beyond anything we have ever known.”

Peace to you this day,
Lisa

*Grieving – The Sacred Art: Hope in the Land of Loss,” Skylight Paths/Turner Publishing, 2016

 

 

 

“So on this meaningful morn, we mourn and we mend.                                                       
Like light, we can’t be broken, even when we bend.”

Amanda Gorman

 

Dear Friends,

You have been in my heart this week.  You, me, all of us –  souls on our planet Earth. We are witnessing a time of transformation. Perhaps you, like me, are reading essays, praying or deepening your meditation, or walking in nature to support this inescapable process of change. Perhaps you, like me, have moments of uncertainty or sadness around the great unknown that is before us.

I followed my instincts, recently, and purchased a grow-your-own-caterpillars kit. I watched them travel around the plastic cup, down into their food source then up the walls to the top. Over and over, shedding their skin as their bodies changed and grew. Their final days, at this stage, were filled with jerks and spasms as they return to the underside of the lid, attached themselves and moved into a “J” shape. Slowly, their bodies transformed, once again, and a chrysalis encapsuled each of them. The next three days were important, explained the instructions, no movement, no disruption to their time of total surrender to their destiny.

These soon-to-be Painted Ladies accompany me, as I too, wait in stillness. They have now been transferred to a habitat for their next stage of transformation. I welcome them each morning, as I too, await mine.

While I wait, I am grateful for the words of our Youth Poet Laureate, Amanda Gorman. I am grateful that her message of hope acknowledges the mourning that is all around us.  (I hope you’ll take the time to hear her message to us.) The fullness of life is found through embracing all of life, not just the sweetness but the bittersweet, sour and distasteful. On those days when I allow myself to feel the enormity of these times, I take little sips of such flavors. I grieve the lost lusciousness of an unfettered life. Something happens when I honor my feelings, as I wait inside my Covid Chrysalis. Something shifts with a timing all of its own. I, like the caterpillar, have no control over the next stage of my life. But I can choose to participate in the process, I can align myself with that-which-is-greater-than-myself….Mother Nature, Higher Power, the Sacred Mystery, God.

I listened to John Phillip Newell’s recent offering: Wisdom in the Pandemic. He affirms the call that I have been hearing, “Deepen your integration of grief and hope, Lisa, step into the fullness of My love for you.” I allow myself to grieve the losses in my life, with faith in my heart. Newell puts it this way,

“Keep our hearts open to allow ourselves to feel the pain, in order to access a deep strength of soul within us, to act for one another.”

This is where I land, dear friends. I am learning compassion from the inside out. As I hold the space of your pain in my prayer, I touch my own. As I trust the healing path with grief by my side, I open my hidden wounds and ask that they be bathed by the light of Christ. Today, as just one more sojourner in the Land of Loss, I embrace the gift of self-compassion and find my compassion for you, more grounded and clear. If the instructions are correct, my guides in the art of transformation will soon be emerging from their time of darkness. I will watch them with a deep respect as each limb, wing, antenna comes into this world. With deep gratitude, I will trust the flow of my own emergence into who I was created to be. May it be so, for all of us, brothers and sisters, this time demands no less.

Your sister on the journey, Lisa

 

This coming Saturday, May 23, 1-4p EDT, I will be facilitating an important conversation and time of reflection about grief.  Our online program, $40, hosted by Mercy by the Sea Retreat and Conference Center, is titled “Conscious grieving: Cultivating Hope in the Land of Loss.” Registration closes at noon on Friday, May 22. If this interests you, I hope you’ll join us. Perhaps you might share this time of community with the people in your world. I’d be grateful.   

 https://programs.mercybythesea.org/CourseCatalog/ScheduleView.asp?ScheduleId=3275

 

 

 

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Dear Friends,

I share here a recent blog that I wrote for Mercy by the Sea Retreat and Conference Center. We are working together to create an afternoon of connection and healing, and you are invited.  Details follow for our live, virtual gathering on May 23rd, I hope you’ll consider joining us, especially if you’ve been circling around sadness or loss. And know that you are in my prayer, as we learn to let hope and sadness co-exist in our tender hearts.

with love, Lisa

 

FINDING HOPE IN THE MIDST OF LOSS*

A cardinal visited my window today, the burst of red in the grey morning made me smile and reminded me of Florence Trahan, RSM. I was fortunate to learn from her at Mercy by the Sea. I was blessed to pray with her. Sister Florence’s gentle heart touched my own as my urgent questions and thoughts filled the room. Where is God in this situation? How should I respond to the people before me? Her spirit sits with me now as I pray about the pandemic and my upcoming program on grief++.

I’m aware that now, and during my training with Sr Florence, I want to do this “right.” Structure my day, I am told. Make time for both movement and contemplation. I listen to wise teachers online, as I listened to Florence’s guidance, and find myself lacking. Some days, I am not steeped in the “peace which transcends all understanding.” I dip into sadness, hover around fear and get drawn into the great unknown.

My study of and experience with grief reminds me to pause…take a deep breath…and open my heart to these feelings. The pandemic is an experience of loss upon loss. Some days I can’t keep up. At the same time, I remember the call to self-compassion. “The root practice,” Francis Weller explains, “for our inner lives and for our relational lives.”

As any griever, I am doing the best I can. I am remaining conscious and bringing that awareness to my experience of loss. I hold the space of love for myself, just another pilgrim on the journey. In the midst of these times, Sister Florence’s gentle spirit reaches into my heart and reminds me that when we choose compassion for one another, and for ourselves, we enter the Mystery as one.

Sister Doris Klein wrote, “We must remember that to own the light is not to deny the darkness but to allow it to be transformed – and it takes courage to be faithful to this transformative process.” Grief after our loved one’s death and grief during this life-changing crisis both call us to an unknown transformation. That is part of the challenge. At the same time, Love is the light that guides us. Love cultivates the courage to choose self-compassion. Love, just like a visiting cardinal, comes at the right time to calm our fears and heal our wounded heart.

 

 

*Posted on 4/30/2020, Mercy by the Sea Retreat and Conference Center, in Madison, CT https://www.mercybythesea.org/blog/finding-hope-in-the-midst-of-loss/

++  Conscious Grieving: Cultivating Hope in the Land of Loss 

Due to the pandemic underway, we are experiencing loss and grief in an entirely new way, including unprecedented separation from our hospitalized or dying loved ones. As global losses mount, our personal losses can become “disenfranchised.” At the same time, we can feel overwhelmed by the “collective and anticipatory grief” that we share each day. 

On May 23rd, 2020, 1-4, p (EDT) Mercy by the Sea Retreat and Conference Center in Madison, CT presents a live, online gathering to explore and express our experiences of loss and grief, including those related to Covid-19. The cost is $40, for detailed information and registration go to https://www.mercybythesea.org/

Lisa Irish, MEd, MA, BCC will host a time of reflection and sharing, as she draws from her experience in bereavement chaplaincy and spiritual direction. This program will support our individual and collective grief in these times of isolation, exploring the transformative nature of grief and nourishing the sacred strands of connectedness between us.  Fr Richard Rohr says of Lisa’s book, Grieving – the Sacred Art: Hope in the Land of Loss, “…The roadmap is wise, but sensitive – grounded in hope – and reminds us to rest in God’s healing love.”