Showing posts with label feelings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feelings. Show all posts

February 7, 2016

In Grief, Through Our Losses



Fallen
by sarah maclaughlin
LISTEN HERE

Heaven bend to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight
Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear
Though I've tried, I've fallen...

I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...
We all begin with good intent
Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past could be undone

But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning
In the wound that would not heal
It's the bitter taste of losing everything
That I've held so dear...

 “It is suffering, more than anything else, which clears the way for the grace which transforms human souls.” —St. John Paul II

As many have learned, grief is the normal, inevitable response to many types of loss, not only death. In grief we feel something is altered, gone from us that we can no longer retrieve, and it prompts sadness. As an experience, grief of all types is more prevalent than death itself. It is highly specific to a given individual due to ones' unique characteristics, interests and relationships. For some, grief is a response to shattered assumptions about life, and ones' life in particular. It encompasses a complex of emotions, cognition, existential and spiritual coping as a response to many, many life events. There is a disintegration of existing, established life structures previously full with meaning.

For some grief is much like the feeling of fear, gripping one with yawning stomach and fluttering feeling. For many it seems to persist for a very long time.
The writer C.S. Lewis wrote a story concerning grief, A Grief Observed, later made into the movie, The Shadowlands with actor Anthony Hopkins.
In mourning losses, there begins the process, often first a sensation of numbness and shock, intense emotions often with a non-linear process. The one in grief may feel things such as anger, sadness, shame, regret, hostility over a period of time.

Philosopher Peter Kreeft called grief "God's jujitsu." The grief experience itself may be what allows many to overcome their grief he writes, to move beyond that initial point.  He asserts that God used the force of the devil's own evil to defeat the evil one.
We can endure evil and suffering and be strengthened. Writing in his book, Making Sense Out of Suffering, Kreeft writes of a deeply human account of compassion, the act of suffering with, and examines how religious traditions view this near universal human experience.
And many find ourselves fallen into a malaise, a gnawing sense of sadness, that things just aren't right. Maybe we're a bit angry too. In grief it is not only other people that cause us to feel loss, but also life events occur which result in losses less obvious. Perhaps it's the loss of earlier, more simple times, loss of health, loss of ones' good name or reputation, attacks to ones' character or the alteration or loss of a parent, friendship or marriage, maybe through a sense of wrong doing or maybe just by distance.

What ever the initial cause of grief, it is felt by many most keenly. All those involved in these situations mentioned above may remain alive and well, though separate and apart. This can and does prompt for many, strong feelings of grief, of loss.
Sorting through these varied and complex situations and emotions over time likely results in a healthy accommodation to a new, revised reality in which one finds the energy to move forward. As Saint John Paul II wrote, grief is a type of suffering which may indeed clear the way for a new, transformed existence.

November 14, 2011

I Just Have Met You Yet

I Just Haven't Met You Yet
by Michael Buble

I'm not surprised
Not everything lasts
I've broken my heart so many times
I stopped keeping track
Talk myself in
I talk myself out
I get all worked up, then I let myself down

I tried so very hard not to lose it
I came up with a million excuses
I thought I thought of every possibility

And I know someday that it'll all turn out...
I just haven't met you yet
Mmm...

I might have to wait
I'll never give up
I guess it's half timing, And the other half's luck...

And I know that we can be so amazing
And baby your love is gonna change me
And now I can see every possibility
Mmm...

But somehow I know that it'll all turn out...
And I promise you, kid, I'll give so much more than I get
I just haven't met you yet

They say all's fair
In love and war
But I won't need to fight it
We'll get it right and,
We'll be united
And I know that we can be so amazing...

And now I can see every single possibility,
mmm...
And someday I know it'll all turn out
And I'll work to work it out
Promise you, kid, I'll give more than I get,
Than I get, than I get, than I get...

Ohh, promise you, kid, to give so much than I get
(I said love, love, love, love...)
I just haven't met you yet
I just haven't met you yet.

While trolling the internet looking at others' thoughts about these lyrics, I saw some who see this song differently. While most described it as fun, upbeat or hopeful, there were those others. They express doubt, frustration or general negativity. Where do these different, divergent views of this song come from? Apparently a person's experiences in the world can and do color their perceptions Often what we're thinking, someone else is too, but not always. Sometimes our feelings color the landscape and we view the world through "rose colored glasses." When we do this, do we ask others about their views, their experience, or do we assume that it is like our own? How do we know when ours is simply different? Is difference frightening or scary? Are we not all finally living under the one, great sun?

Over the weekend I went traveling to an amazing place, along the shores of beautiful lake Michigan. It brought back memories for me, but mostly me alone. I quickly learned that my companions had little or no prior experience with the power and raw beauty of this vast body of water. And that was okay by me; I could share a bit of my own experience with others: they perhaps viewed it for the first time; meanwhile, I viewed the scene fondly, in part from memory. It was the blending of the new, in the moment experience, and the recollection of the old, what we call reminisce.

The ties of old do bind themselves to the new. I found that it's all still there; it has always been there, the lake, the energy, the calm, the peace, the excitement and the desire; I am left with a newer, stronger version of what I already knew from before. It's all so loveable.