A breath for these tough times

Sending out extra wishes of Safety & Sanctuary for everyone in the path of the hard things, what a scary time we are in, inhaling and exhaling, for compassion, strength, courage, swift and steady miracles.

Announcement / get your copy of Emergency Calming Down Techniques

I’ve been reeling hard lately in some cursed combination of heartache, numbness, political anxiety, winter stuff and some wild panic episodes.

Have been holding on (for dear life) to my Emergency Calm The Hell Down Techniques from a long time ago, and it’s been helping.

I am giving away a copy of these (ebook + audio recordings) to anyone who gives any sum of money to the appreciation funds / discretionary fund in the hopes that we can all keep practicing together, for each other and for the collective, and also for ourselves in these scary times. ❤️

A part time cartographer of grief

The familiar places

During the past six months of heartbreak grief, I have visited many familiar places, and by “visited” I mean: spent so much time there that I am entirely sick of these places but somehow also not ready or able to leave them behind.

These are the places where I wander in circles.

For example…

Let’s name some of these territories

The familiar places where I have been lost-not-lost and wandering include:

The Forest of Unrelenting Sorrow
The Confused Places: Why? And: No, Really, Why? And: What Did I Do?
Fury: I Hope That Person Trips Over A Mountain Lion And Falls Off A Cliff
Dodged That Bullet, Don’t You Feel Lucky (No)
Remorse: How Can I Make This Right
When Will It Stop Hurting This Much
It Must Be A Mistake, I Don’t Understand
What Will Make This Feel Better, Anything? Anything at all????
Bargaining: Just Come Back Please

The bitter places

This week I found myself waking up into a new territory. Not a better one, I don’t think, but at least it’s new.

As a part-time cartographer of grief, it is intriguing to be in a new space.

Yes, now here I am in the bitter places, the bitterness of grief.

It is a different place than the rage or the sadness or the asking why over and over again into the void.

Talk to me about bitterness, about being bitter, about being in the bitterness. What is useful in bitterness?

What is useful in the newness of this? Any change in storm, any shift, it all counts, it has to.

The rude app

My language app feeds me sentences in Arabic to translate:

How does he not love you?

And then: Why does he not love you?

And then: I am from Egypt.

I am from the city Alexandria in Egypt. The city of Alexandria is beautiful, famous and diverse, it adds, helpfully. Why does he not love you?

Not helpful, I say to the app. Not helping at all.

The narrow places

Egypt in Arabic is Misr and in Hebrew it is Mitzrayim, which is like the straits, but also: the narrow places.

The app is right. He does not love me. Asking why and how over and over again is boring. And I am both from and in the narrow places. That’s fair. The app has a point.

Speaking of unhelpful

Grief cannot be rushed. I know this, from being alive.

I also know that we live in an impatient culture that wants us to get over stuff already and be “productive”, which doesn’t really go with grieving, and goodness knows there is more than enough in this life and our world to grieve right now.

Everyone in my life is more than ready for me to move on from this, and I don’t blame them, I am bored of this too.

You are here, like it or not (they do not like it)

At the six month mark, I went for a walk in the hills with a friend. “It’s been six months,” I said. “And I feel…”

“Done? Over it? Better?” She asked.

Sadly no. I feel hurt, sad, frustrated, confused, bewildered, in pain. Maybe not as much, maybe it’s not as all-consuming, maybe it’s different, but it’s the same categories of feeling. You are here. But everyone is like, okay but have you tried being over there?

The places I know

I might be as sick of my grief as my friends are of hearing about it, and also, you are where you are where you are.

All I can do is observe the places where I am, and observe my relationship with those places. I can’t wish myself elsewhere. I mean, I can, but it doesn’t work for me.

The places I see other people visiting

Everyone I know is also grieving right now, but they are mostly doing it by being impossibly busy, all the time, and not taking a moment to experience not-busy. Or if they are not-busy then they are distracting in some other ways or going through periods of being completely checked out. Which I am not judging. Grief sucks.

And in some sense, I can appreciate the art of staying too busy to notice pain. I certainly see the appeal of that. It’s just not my way, for whatever reason even though sometimes I wish I could go that way.

I grieve by wandering the grief forests. I light a candle, a tea light, and put it in a jar, placing a cedar tip in a little metal strainer on top, so that my kitchen smells like the forest too. Focus.

I am hurting and I am still here, doing my best, breathing.

Artichoke advice (not sage advice, though maybe)

A favorite book of mine is An Everlasting Meal by Tamar Adler, which is about cooking but also about everything, and I wish we were in the same place right now so that I could read you this passage from it:

“Though plucking artichoke leaves doesn’t mend all cracked spirits as firmly as pea shelling, it has its own curative power. There is a Dutch saying: ‘Bitter in the mouth cures the heart.’ If you happen to have a friend shaken by heartache, hand over a bag of raw artichokes. Once she has relieved them of their leaves, encourage one brave bite. Between the meditative peeling and the bitter taste, she should be completely healed. If there are no artichokes around, raw dandelion greens are a good substitute.”

I have sat with this, and been sitting with this, and have mixed feelings.

A bitter healing (and bitter laughter)

I think the Dutch are right. There is healing to be found in bitterness, and in bitters.

Something abrasive, something biting, something restorative, something that shocks the digestive system into softening, surely all that must be good for the pains of the heart.

So much of heartache is, after all, about digesting the indigestible.

The person whom you loved so intensely was not who you thought they were, what a betrayal. Or their love was mysteriously revoked in a way that shocks the system into a sort of paralysis.

How do you take something like that in, how do you adapt? How do you keep on keeping on in that new reality?

Bitter about bitters being the answer

Bitters seem like a good answer.

Does peeling artichokes help a broken heart? I think if it does then it is for a different sort of heartache than mine.

But also I do agree that meditative hours in the kitchen have been good for me over the past several months, breathing and smelling and stirring, watching things transform.

The places I do not know and want to know

I love a good obsession, and am always looking for a new one.

I love the idea of bitter as part of the healing process.

A bitter healing / healing bitterness through bitters / and a bitter laugh about artichoke advice not being sage advice, haha love a bitter laugh.

My record-breaking six day stretch of zero anxiety coincided with my week of of being dangerously obsessive with languages, putting in a number of hours per day which I absolutely cannot go back to.

But I don’t know what else will get me back to not having anxiety, or will be a form of artichoke-peeling to keep me from wandering the usual places in the grief forests.

Talk to me about craving

I am just really craving something new, and I don’t know what it is, adventure, joy, pleasure, something to look forward to????? Who can say.

What are the known knowns?

Let’s name what is known.

This bitter territory is new, and that seems good. Something is moving and shifting in the grieving process. I am learning more about the geography and cartography of grief, and of my grief.

Obsessions are good for me, I like throwing myself into something. None of the current obsessions are big enough or working enough, but they are all a start, each one is a clue.

The bravest thing I can do is love myself more, and keep loving myself, keep treasuring my tender heart, keep on keeping on, keep tending to the hurt places. Yes, we are not rushing the grieving, even as I keep noticing how much I wish it was done.

What are the questions

Where can I embrace bitterness? Add bitters and stir. Make room for the bitter.

What is useful about bitterness? Can I see bitterness as part of the heart healing rather than something getting in the way of the heart healing?

Can I embrace what is bracing? Pomegranate vinegar in sparkling water on a warm evening.

What is useful about being the wanderer of the grief forests? What awaits me in the clearing? What is changing in me through my wandering?

What is needed?

Let’s talk to a version of me who is not circling the same territory in the forests of grief, who has more clarity on this than I do? What does this self have to say?

They say:

“You are not lost. You are getting to know some pathways. You are tough, you are courageous, you are resilient (even if that does not feel true in this moment), and you are a good observer. Breathe deep, listen, gain in strength, gain in powers. Make some signposts. Pile up some stones. Mark where you are. There is a usefulness in knowing this territory. Be kind with yourself.”

What are my next steps?

Cultivating the good obsessions. Earlier to bed. Doing the things that help. Naming what I have learned or noticed or experienced.

So many things have solved themselves. This too can solve itself. Nothing is forever.

Keep wishing the wishes: more hiking companions, more yoga time, some good obsessions.

How you do anything is how you do everything, so can I channel some more intention and grace and patience for wandering the grief forests. Maybe the wandering is a form of dance?

Let’s start with dark chocolate, chicory, bitter intensity to be melded with sweetness. For this beautiful heart.

Come play in the comments, I appreciate the company

Leave a pebble (o) to say you were here, so I know I’m not doing this alone.

Also it feels good to pick up a pebble and place it somewhere, I have noticed.

You are invited to share any related situations or musings of your own if you like, or name any wishes that are in process.

And of course you are welcome to share anything that sparked for you while reading, anything that helped, clues received, or anything on your mind, wish some wishes, process what’s percolating…

I am lighting a candle for us and our beautiful heart-wishes. What a brave thing it is to allow ourselves to want something better for us and for the world.

Or if there’s anything you’d like to explore further or toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship helps.

Whatever comes to mind or heart. Let’s support each other’s hope-sparks…

Housekeeping note: You can subscribe to posts by email again!

If you aren’t seeing these updates in your in your email and want to, you can can solve that here.

This will pop up a new page on Follow.It that lets you subscribe via email, newsletter, or RSS reader. They say “expect 50 stories a week”, and that’s a very imaginary number, once a week is the dream.

I am emailing copies of the Emergency Calming Techniques package!

Anyone who gives to the Discretionary this week (more info below) will get my Emergency Calming Techniques package by email as a pdf. I am only checking email twice a week because I no longer have wifi at my place, long story, so be patient with me but if it doesn’t show up within the week then let me know!

I have some ideas for the next ebook too but if you do too, shoot me an email or share in the comments.

A request!

If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously.

I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to the Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.

And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️