Ghosts, Goats & Giggles – Making Heaven

My life takes me to some pretty interesting places. Last week it was a farm in rural PEI. As I brought loved ones through, audience members cuddled baby goats and baby rabbits on their laps. It was surreal and fascinating at the same time. Goats don’t sit still often, so to see these little creatures curled up quietly while we worked with spirit was truly quite amazing for me; in fact it confirmed for me that those gone before us have a settling effect on all living things.  How beautiful and not something I ever expected I might be involved in.

That’s my grandaughter in the picture by the way.  Her only concern that day was goats and giggles. And combined it created the perfect photo op. Goats are naturally curious and fun loving. They climb, they nudge, they head butt and they smile if you can imagine. It’s like they just intuitively know how to cheer us up.

As I watched them bounce around last week they reminded me of those that we’ve lost. Always present, peering around doorways and always trying to get our attention. Or, curled up peacefully in the arms of those seeking comfort. Not so unlike the ones we love at all.  I never thought a goat would become a metaphor for spiritual connection but there it is.

The world is a tad bit bananas of late if you hadn’t noticed. I could choose to discuss the pain of this past week, the questions of why bad things happen to good and innocent souls but I chose instead to talk about ghosts, goats and giggles. Because sometimes the weight of the world beyond that is too heavy for us to bear. It doesn’t mean that I am ignorant of the turmoil; in fact I did exact a fairly lengthy narrative on it but have decided instead that I am choosing to share some light and hoping it finds the dark corners.

When life is bananas make bread right?

We got this.

When life starts to get you down, feel the feels for the moments that you feel them and then search for a giggle. Balance is the key to existing on a planet hell bent on knocking us all off.  And it’s OK to seek the balance. It’s OK to not feel guilty for laughing, for enjoying life and for turning off the news.  It’s OK to not be informed at every waking moment.

Take moments to breath and to feel life on each inhalation. If those on the spirit side could tell us to do one thing, it’s to keep on keeping on without them. Because when we keep on, they keep on right beside us.

Those you’ve lost and love exist vicariously through how you live. We bring them to beautiful places on each laugh, on each kindess and on each breath that we take.  We create their heaven for them in each waking moment.

Why not create a heaven that includes goats n giggles?  There’s nothing wrong with that and everything right in that.

Can’t find a goat to chase around? Find a butterfly. Run with your dog. Find a splashpad and rush through the waterfall in your clothes. Dance to the elevator music. Stop and listen to the buskers and clap for them. Go to the fair. Ride something huge and terrifying and exhilerating.  Eat what you shouldn’t eat. Giggle too loud in a library and giggle harder when you are shushed.

Heaven today is heavy. It is welcoming souls who had different plans this week. It is sorting and shaping new enviornments for those that are now part of that world.  And it will need our help to make these spaces as bright and wonderous and joyful as possible.  We couldn’t help them here, but we can help them there.  So send them bubbles and sunshine and laughter to light the way forward.  Not only do we help them we help us.  We need to learn to lift the enviornment we live in. Only then can we lift the world.  And that will change it. Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon.

The goats don’t know the state of the world. They simply know that they are happy. And that somehow that happiness makes us right again.

Grieve for a moment. Pause to acknowledge those gone forward. And then give them the gift of a life well lived.

They deserve that.

Oh…by the way…if you are in the neighbourhood drop by Island Hill Farm

#cutestplaceonearth

 

 

 

 

 

Grieving Promise

Grief is hemorrhagic.

It shares no umbrella of the same color or shape. You can’t expect someone to stay dry using yours because it worked for you.

I promise you will grieve.  And there is nothing I can do to prepare you.

I can share literature and lead by my example but there is nothing I can do to help you understand.  Like birth and like death, the journey to your  certain discomfort will only be known by yourself.  There will be nothing to catch you, nothing that can console you and nothing to fill the shatters in your soul.  A deeply painful and personal unraveling of all the words you could have said and all the moments you had the opportunity to say them.  Of all the chances you missed and the chances you took.  You will find discomfort in every choice you created and every choice you allowed.

I promise you will grieve. And there is nothing I can do to prepare you.

What I can prepare you for  is that no one will understand the depth of your pain. They will try to understand, attempt to console, try to catch you when your knees burst and you fall to the depths. But I can promise you they will not know how deeply you will drop because you are falling through your own waters and bringing your own beliefs, thoughts and regrets as your swimming companions.

I promise no one will understand your pain.

Your pain is as individual as your fingertips, your DNA and your thoughts. While many will commiserate and understand the experience of loss, they can never truly seek to understand your ownership to the individuality of your story.

If we are to help one another through grief, we must be aware that not one process is like another.  We cannot seek to know the physical and emotional results of a heart that is punctured; whether once or a thousand times over.  The choice of injurious results lies with each individual story.  Over time hearts will heal, some more quickly; while others will leave nothing more than sinew to toughen the holes and to make them impenetrable to the possibility of further bleeding.  In both there is strength. And in both we have no right in our opinion of the process.

I’ve heard it enough now in my lifetime and my career. The judgements on how the grieving can grieve.

“He’s already moved onward to a new spouse. Her body is barely cold”

We have no right.

“She’s pregnant again, so soon. She hasn’t grieved the child she lost”

We have no right.

“You are angry and not what I knew. I cannot work with what I don’t recognize”

We have no right.

“Get up from the couch. Uncurl your hands from the teddy bear. You have to keep going”

We have no right.

Until the moment that the sharp pins explode  into our own hearts, our own souls and our own understanding of what that looks like…

We have no right.

And even after that moment…

The only right we are afforded…

Is the right to finally understand that we can offer nothing to change the experience.

Nothing that is…

Except to love them through it.  Whether we disagree, we wouldn’t have done it the same way, or we think our way is better.

Their way is the only way.

Love them through it.

Love them through what they need to do in order to survive.

Surviving might be angry, risk taking or silence. Surviving might be running forward to something new. Surviving may be terror in allowing anything or anyone to come close again. Surviving might be bottled or prescribed. Surviving may be tolerable only in introversion or in dancing through the streets.  Surviving may be in dying and breathing concurrently.

Love them through it anyway.

Grief is hemorrhagic.

It shares no umbrella of the same color or shape. You can’t expect someone to stay dry using yours because it worked for you.

Love them through it.

Let them bleed.

Only they can stop the flow because only they know where the punctures exist.

Love them through it.

Love you through it.

 

Be kinder. Be more compassionate. Don’t push. Don’t force.  Be gentle. Be tolerable because understanding will be obscure.

Just love them through it.

 

Loving you through it

Tania