barbaraheagy10@gmail.com – Page 10

Good Grief

We had a very successful book launch. Thank you to all who came out. Here is my speech:

The first thing I want to say is how honoured I have been to be a part of this very special book, Good Grief People. I knew none of these authors, except for a slight acquaintance with Donna Mann, until we began working on the manuscript last year. Glynis M. Belec, Carolyn Wilker, Ruth Smith Meyer, Donna Mann, and Alan Anderson, I now count you as best friends, my BFF’s, and I admire and respect you all so much. My friends have taught me much about death, dying, and the grief process.

I’ve done a lot of thinking about what ‘good grief’ is. And now that I see the book in its final form with all our stories and poems, I think I would have this to say about good grief.

Good grief is about bravery, sensitivity, acceptance, and a generous, fearless attitude to life.

Grief is much like falling in love – to do it well, we have to drop the barriers holding us back from fully stepping forward into it. Yes, it’s a powerful emotion, as powerful as love. But that’s what grief is – love. When we have loved deeply, we grieve deeply.

Good grief means facing the fear, the anger, and processing it in good faith. It’s about examining one’s life and finding new purpose and a new identity. It’s about a willingness to live and find a new you.

Like a woman in labour, who works with her body and mind to embrace the pain, to release it instead of fighting it and bottling it up, when I grieve well, I learn to ‘go with the flow’. These stories have taught me that I can birth myself into a new identity. It will be a world without you, a different world, but I will still be in it and will find my new life.

Grief is like a wounded athlete who learns to work through an injury, strengthening the other muscles and joints to heal an injury to regain our health and wholeness once again. Grief can be like an amputation, and when you think about it, losing someone dear to you is like losing a part of yourself. But even through that, we can learn to do things in a new way and go on.

Good grief is the fork in the road, and although we may hesitate, we choose to take it in good faith. It’s the willingness to continue the journey, a journey into the unknown.

Good grief is the willingness to accept the end of one story and move on to the next chapter or book. We all have our favourite books and stories that we just hate to see end. We stretch out the best parts, savour it, read it again slowly, or even stop reading because we can’t bear for it to be over. But it does come to an end. And then we move on to the next story, but not until we have placed that story in our ‘favourite books’ shelf for safe-keeping and re-reading. We know that we can return to it again and again, but we know too that it will never be the same as that first time experience.

I hope that our book, these stories, will help you find hope in the midst of despair, comfort from the pain, joy in the sadness, strength out of the weakness and acceptance in the midst of denial. They all sit on the same plate. We can learn to live with both.

Death Cafes

Last night I attended a ‘Death Café’ at a local downtown coffee shop. I had heard of them before and was intrigued. They are meant “to increase awareness of death with a view to helping people make the most of their (finite) lives. A Death Cafe is a group directed discussion of death with no agenda, objectives or themes.” www.deathcafe.com

About 25-30 adults were gathered, all ages, in a back room of the coffee shop, seated at small tables in groups of six or less, which allowed for intimate, close talk. A local officiant, Christine Lafazanos, and her company “Woven Threads,” handcrafted ceremonies, hosted the event which she holds every two months for the public for free.

After a short introduction, with some basic guidelines, she handed the evening over to us. For the next two hours, we introduced ourselves, told the others why we were there, and discussed a large variety of issues about death, dying, and grief through casual conversation. On the table, was a small jar with short statements about death meant to initiate discussion. We shared stories and expressed our fears, grief, and questions. We all acknowledged that our society just doesn’t like talking about death.

It was refreshing to be able to meet with strangers and speak about such a dreaded topic which affects us all. After all, we all die. Why do we ignore it, and treat it with such fear? Why are we and our families so unprepared for it? How does it affect us in both the short and the long term? What can we do to help loved ones die? What can we do for ourselves and our own grief and suffering when we lose a loved one? How can we live better lives by acknowledging the inevitability of death?

Death. It’s a big issue. We had many questions. And I’m not so sure there were clear answers but it was refreshing and helpful to talk about it and apply it to our own lives. We can help each other.

Check out Christine Lafazanos at www.woven-threads.ca and www.facebook.com/WovenThreads.Celebrant for information about the next Death Café in the Guelph area.

Rain Makes Rainbows

I was thinking about my recent trip to Hawaii where I went to dance at a week- long event called One Dance Tribe. After spending almost a year co-authoring a book about grief, I was looking for some pure joy in my life. And I did find it.

The first day, the first dance session, I was invited to dance with a complete stranger, and as we circled, and swooped and jumped around each other, I found myself smiling and then laughing out loud. Pure play. I felt the freedom of a young barn-bound colt let out to romp in the grassy meadow on the first warm, sunny spring day.

I also experienced pain, my own as well as others. On the dance floor, we were invited to consider the pain in the world, our own as well as others, and express it in movement, gesture and dance. No words. I cried in the arms of a stranger, as tears spilled down my cheeks over the death of my brother-in-law, who I had just found out the night before, via text, that the cancer he had been fighting for years, won. I wasn’t going to be there for his funeral.

Several times, after dinner, or at a quiet moment, someone would approach me and sit across from me and slowly start telling me about their lives, often being moved to tears. I just listened. It was an international dance event and, early in the week-

long event, most of these people were strangers to me. I felt honoured that they would share their lives so intimately with me.

Every day, it rained for some time, usually just a quick blast of warm drops and it was over. But the sun was always back. And with it, came some of the most beautiful, vividly-colored rainbows that I had ever seen. And there was usually more than one throughout the day. As one of the participants said, “Hawaii is a rainbow machine.”

So yes, I did find joy. But I also found pain. I found they exist on the same plate. It rained almost every day, and every day we had an abundance of rainbows. Rain and rainbows danced in the sky, side-by-side.

Good Grief People Book Launch

COME HELP US CELEBRATE!

We invite all of you, family, friends, public, to come ‘Meet the Authors’ and join us for our GOOD GRIEF PEOPLE book launch on May 6th.

We have the lovely Aboyne Hall rented in the beautiful historical Wellington County Museum and Archives between Elora and Fergus, Ontario. Our plan is to have a short program of welcome and then lots of opportunity to meet all six authors and have your book signed if you would like.

We are very excited that our only male author, Alan Anderson, is travelling with his lovely wife, Terry, all the way from British Columbia to join us. (And it’s their 39th anniversary, too!)

And come hungry. We will have a luncheon and a door prize, too.

Can’t wait. So excited. Looking forward to seeing all of you.

Mark your calendar and bring a friend. We would LOVE to have you join us and help celebrate the official release of GOOD GRIEF PEOPLE.

Consider yourself officially invited!

One Dance Tribe

I am a dancer. There have been times in my life that it was my passion and it fed my spirit. Then I danced every day. I became a full-time elementary school teacher in my late 30’s. Shortly after I stopped dancing and left it behind.

But it wouldn’t leave me.

Throughout the years, I kept returning to my dance, finding new ways to check in with my body and spirit; a weekly stretch/strength/free dance class, NIA dance workshops and retreats, yoga, sacred circle dancing and even ballroom dancing.

Last year I saw online an ad for a dance event in Maui, Hawaii called One Dance Tribe. I was intrigued. For months, I waffled back and forth about going. I began the registration procedure four separate times, but it wasn’t until the fourth time, that I persevered and hit the final ‘send’ button. Now I was committed!

In January, 2017, I flew to Maui for the One Dance Tribe, an international dance event with 80 other like-minded souls from all over the world.

The camp, rustic and simple, sat on the clifftop of the beautiful Keanae Peninsula, overlooking the Pacific Ocean on all three sides. Home for me for the week was a small 4 X 4 tent set back among the towering trees of a tropical forest, where the constant sound of the ocean waves on the cliffs lulled me to sleep each night and gentle birdsong woke me just after sunrise each morning.

We danced from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. every day. Six different teachers presented their styles and approaches to conscious dance, sometimes working independently, sometimes together in one common spirit. Spiritual teachers and healers helped us to integrate our dancing experiences through massage, body healing techniques, voice exercises, chanting, music and ceremony.

At One Dance Tribe, I immersed myself in new – a new land, wild and beautiful and a new dance experience where I, once again, began to listen to my body and learn from its wisdom. I learned to be spontaneous, authentic, and trustful of the process. I became deeply aware of my chi body energy and flow. Joy, laughter and freedom naturally flowed as I allowed my instincts to respond to the music and the teacher’s promptings. I began to test my strengths and my limitations and became aware of knots of pain, both physical and emotional, learning to see and understand them with honesty and clarity. For me, the Feldenkrais healing sessions and various moving meditations aided me even further in this deep awareness.

I learned of the truth that is revealed through movement by observing others move. By watching others, with focus and intent, I ‘listened’ to their ‘movementspeak.’ As assuredly as if they had used spoken words, their movements told me their story. I danced for them, capturing their essence with a movement response. “This is what I hear you say” became “This is what I see you say.” We spoke in a new language, one without words, the language of the body with its energy and flow.

I learned to care for others, to relate to them through movement. Through dance, we shared our lives, experiences and energies in a spontaneous dialogue. We played and laughed together. We cried together and held each other up.

I learned I didn’t have to know all your story to help you embrace your path. All I had to do was be there for you; to listen, hold, and love you, so that you were not alone in your pain. I learned I didn’t have to give you my whole life. It was enough to be there for just the moment that we were placed together – to be authentic, supportive and sharing of THIS moment.

I learned to show up daily; to ‘be here now’ with others. My presence mattered and contributed to the group process.

I learned to persevere and push my physical, emotional, and spiritual levels, in spite of discomfort. As I moved inward, I tested and revealed my own inner energy and spirit. As I moved outward, I shared more of myself with others, as partners and as a group.

Through all these experiences, I felt and understood my place in a greater world as part of a kindred population of people. As an equal member of creation, I realized my connection to the vast, powerful energy of our natural world.
*****************************
On our last day, we sat with a partner and repeatedly asked each other a question.

“What does your heart know?”

My heart has deep gratitude for this unique experience where I retreated from my everyday world to this movement sanctuary. Here I was encouraged to be my true self. I have gratitude for the teachers and healers who offered their skills to teach me that body awareness and authenticity. I have loving gratitude for my body – its energy, its flow and its truth.

“What does your heart know?”

It knows a deeper awareness and understanding of the revealing power of movement. I learn about you and you learn about me by sharing our unspoken dialogue through movement and dance. The body doesn’t lie.

“What does your heart know?”

I know that I am part of a greater natural world. I am powerful, fierce, and flowing as the gifts of the ocean, the cliffs and towering vegetation. I learned to be at one with it, to yield to its power and beauty, rather than dominate and separate myself from it.

“What does your heart know?”

I can share your pain without it binding me up and swallowing me in over-empathy. I don’t need to know all the details. It is enough to just be there for you in your moment of need. I don’t have to solve it for you. All I have to do is be open, loving, and supportive, as you work through it. I don’t need to be afraid of your pain. I don’t need to eradicate your pain. It does not need to overwhelm me.

“What does your heart know?”

I am learning to ‘go with the flow’ – to not fight it. I became aware of the knots and blocks in my body and psyche that I am avoiding because they are too painful or too fearful.

“What does your heart know?”

I am learning to be ‘me’, not the ‘me’ that has been molded by a society of rules and expectations. I am learning to be authentic. I am learning how to love better, myself as well as others. I am better loving my natural world which I am a part of.

“What does your heart know?”

I am learning the power of the group, of community. When we all join together in a spirit of love, non-judgement, open acceptance and support, there is power in that.

We are One.
************************************************
Thank you to all who contributed to the One Dance Tribe event.

I thank you for the opportunity to retreat and learn. I was fed, housed, taught, and healed.

Thank you for the physical setting of the camp on Keanae Peninsula on the winding Hana Highway, a place of raw, wild, untamed beauty; a place where nature rules and man is a visitor. With honour, I danced the hula to the sun, moon, wind, clouds, rain, cliffs, ocean and shore. How magical was the appearance of a brilliant, glowing rainbow as it offered its gift to bless our dance to it.

Thank you for the blessing of the inner dance sanctuary which invited us in with its openness and beautiful flowing fabric, carpets, cushions, flowers and ferns. It was a space created with love and a sense of beauty and sanctity.

Thank you for the music, so carefully chosen to inspire, stimulate and feed our senses.

Thank you to each of the teachers for your individuality and uniqueness. As leaders, you gave us your best through sensitive offerings and guidance. Thank you for the union of your skills as teachers. We truly became One Dance Tribe with no competition, no judgement, a true union of a dancing people.

Thank you for all who made this event such a special and unique experience – the cooks, the cleaning staff, the grounds people, administrators, guests and volunteers. We fed and cared for each other, contributing bits of ourselves to a greater community.

Thank you. Grazie. Mahalo.

New Year’s Resolutions

As 2016 as left us and 2017 has rolled in, I have been contemplating my New Year’s resolutions. New Year’s Day seems to be a good time to reassess your life and set some new goals, or so the world seems to be telling me.

I agree. It’s good to re-evaluate your life once in a while, and New Year’s Day seems to be as good a time as any, but I have learned that I need to be doing this on a continuous basis. I can set a goal, but then I need some steps to achieve that goal. These become my signposts along the way. It’s not just goal setting, it’s goal building. If I don’t have these mini-steps along the way, I’ve learned that I probably won’t achieve my main goal in the end.

Even at that, with a guiding map with significant stops along the way, life will probably throw some curveballs into it that threaten my steady progress. That’s when I stop and re-assess. Perhaps there’s a major storm happening, perhaps the road has crumbled or is under construction, and I have to choose another path. But if I hold true to my chosen destination, I will find another way. It may mean just a short respite from my travelling or I may have to choose a whole new path to circumvent the problem but if the goal was worth setting, it’s worth finding another path to it.

I lie to myself. I realize that there are different ways to try to meet my goals. One way to achieve a goal is to express it as a ‘hope’ – “I HOPE to feel better in my body.” But said this way, it really comes down to me saying to myself, “I INTEND to meet this goal.” These kind of goals have a built-in ‘out’ to them. I’m not committed to anything. I just hope I will achieve it. As the saying goes, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

I admit it. I ‘intend’ to continue to feel good in my body, which means regular exercise and good dietary choices. This is something I have been working on in the past, but I realize that I can do better. In fact, it seems my body is telling me, I must do better or suffer the consequences. I will go to the gym today and continue to hold this goal in front of me so that I feel better. It seems I have a million interests and obligations that continuously try to sidetrack me from meeting this goal. I need to bring my goal to the forefront and adhere to the regular steps along the way to achieve it fully. That means getting out and exercising at least 150 minutes every week. I need to set the dates and do it with full commitment. If something diverts me from fulfilling that commitment then I need to find another time and day to do it.

Another goal I have set is to give myself a new learning opportunity. It’s a short term goal, the kind I prefer. I tend to be a sprinter in life, and less like a long distance runner. It’s easier for me to fulfill a goal that has an end in sight. I have registered and paid for a week long getaway to attend an international dance camp. In a totally unique way I am looking with interest to improve on the skills I already have in dance, writing, travel and spiritual growth. I see it as the next step in my self-development. This is a goal that will improve me without necessarily knowing where it will lead to next. That’s okay. I’m going to enjoy doing it and I know I will be applying my new-found experience in future projects.

Another way I use to meet my goals is to work backwards and set a final date and goal and claim it publicly. When I set a goal like this, I don’t really know the path it’s going to take to meet it, but by publicly declaring it, I am assured that I will meet it. I am committed. It puts pressure on me. Without asking for it, I have enlisted the help of my community to ensure that I get the job done. For if I don’t meet my goal, I have not only let myself down, but all the people that believe in me. I’ve done this many times in the past by setting dates for future performances and it works well for me. This year I have done it by co-authoring a book called “Good Grief People” and we have set the date of February 28, 2017 as the probable launch date. I say ‘probable’, because we did set this goal before we knew the absolute route it would take to get there but we are aiming for February 28, 2017. I know we will reach our goal. We’re going to do it together.

So, my 2017 goals of ‘feeling good in my body’, ‘building my dance skills’ and ‘writing a book’ are well underway. I hope you have set some goals too. Good luck to all of us.

Christmases Past

There are those who are facing difficult circumstances this holiday season. It’s not easy being surrounded by cheery music, glittering decorations, party-makers and celebration planners when you feel your world is falling apart. It all looks so joyful and we can’t help but feel isolated by the merriment that we’re not feeling ourselves. The whole world seems to be a part of some great coming event that we just don’t look forward to.

Six years ago today, just before Christmas, my husband Tom passed away and he was gone forever. That first Christmas I was numb. I hadn’t truly accepted the fact that Tom was no longer with me. I had bought gifts and stocking stuffers for him and he had bought gifts for others that were still arriving by parcel post and courier. I chose gifts for his family, wrapped them, and wrote personal notes on Tom’s behalf as if he had given them himself. The Christmas card I had bought for him said it all: “Life gives beautiful gifts. It gave me you. Merry Christmas (our last one).” In truth, the Christmas the year before had been our last one, but I wasn’t ready to accept that reality. Family helped me wade through the grief of that first Christmas with love and understanding as we celebrated together.

The next Christmas was actually harder to go through without him for he was no part of the preparations. For the first time since I had been with him, I wasn’t choosing a gift for him, I had no need to fill his stocking or buy a special Christmas card. Any gifts I bought for others were from me, not us. What I did do is light a memorial candle in his memory. It sat beside his framed photo on the mantel of the fireplace. With the help of family, I made it through that holiday season.

I continued to light a memorial candle each Christmas. He was still with us. Family celebrations continued to be a part of all my Christmases and stories and memories of Tom were always encouraged from family and friends. His memory lived on. Christmases got better.

This Christmas will be the seventh one without Tom as a living presence. But he continues to be with us in our hearts and minds. Special decorations, food, drink, so many things still bring back memories of our lives together. We still share the stories and our fond memories of him. For us, he lives on, just in a new way.

The black grief of that first Christmas is gone but I continue to feel melancholy at times. How could I not? We had a great love. I will always love him. But life moves forward. There have been weddings and new births and grandchildren growing. Reaching out to others has helped. I have cried with those who miss their loved ones as they pass on and I have laughed with delight holding a newborn baby in my arms. We share our lives; the joy, the grief, the celebrations and the losses. I continue to live in hope and faith for all that life offers me.

I made it through that dark valley. I wasn’t afraid to feel the shock and the grief. I accepted all the dark feelings and let them run their course as the tears flowed and turmoil reigned. I reached out to family and friends for support, encouragement and even distraction. They helped me laugh again. I stayed an active participant in life by continuing to work, joining clubs and making new friends. I am stronger for having gone through it all, and can now reach out to others to help them through their difficult times. Together we can make it.

Stay hopeful. Stay strong. Better times are ahead. Believe that Christmas will once again be joyful for you. I wish you a Merry Christmas. Even if it doesn’t feel like it. It will.

Christmas in the Classroom

One year in my classroom, as we approached the winter holiday season, I asked my gr. 1’s what ‘Christmas’ was all about. I got a variety of answers. I said to them, “It’s somebody’s birthday.

Do you know who?”

No one knew. So I told them the original Christian story of Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus visited by the wise men and shepherds and angels.

Later I was reading them a story about the nativity scene and Cameron asked, “Who is Jesus Christ?”

“Well, Christians say he’s the son of God,” I answered.

“Does that make Joseph the step-dad?”

“Well, in a way.”

“Well, if God’s his real father, what does he look like?”

“God is a spirit. God doesn’t look like people.”

Lily piped up. “God isn’t a he or she. God’s a spirit.”

“What’s a spirit?” asked Ashley.

“Well, a spirit is kind of like a ghost…”

“Like Casper?” asked Cameron.

“…or maybe like the tooth fairy,” I fumbled, trying to think of images that they could relate to. “Or, perhaps more like Mother Nature. In some magical way, the sun comes up, the sun goes down, the seasons change and seeds grow and animals are born. God’s the energy that makes all that happen.”

“God created us,” Lily said.

“Yes, Christians say that. And they say God created Jesus Christ magically inside Mary’s belly or womb.”

Nathan, still puzzled, said, “Well I know who Jesus is but who is Christ?”

“Jesus Christ is one and the same person. Just like you are Nathan Wood, Jesus has two names, too.”

“Oh,” he smiled, happy to understand. “Mr. Christ!”

A Search for Peace

This week has been an eventful week with the election of the Republican Donald Trump to the US Presidency. I thought, “How could that be? How could a man who campaigned on hate, racism, and division of classes and cultures, be voted into power by so many?”

A few days later, I attended my Writers’ Club where a group of seniors gathered together to share their stories. What I heard were stories of war and its casualties. I began to realize that it wasn’t just those who died in battle that suffered. Those who returned with lost limbs, broken hearts and minds, those who grieved loved ones lost, and those who lived at home with fear, separated families and hardships suffered too.

The next day, I attended a Remembrance Day ceremony in my local community. Those who spoke so eloquently, spoke not of the glory of war, but of its cost to families, communities and nations in frightful memories and shattering repercussions that carried on for a lifetime. It was a cry of gratitude for those who died, but even more so, it was a call for peace.

This week on social media, there has been much discussion and rhetoric about the political future of the US and predictions about future decisions and policies. I have come to realize that the reason Trump was elected to power is because there is a large group of citizens that are not happy with the status quo. Most citizens who voted for Trump want only their fair share of the economic pie and a call for honesty that ‘tells it like it is.’ It seems statistically a lot of them were from the working middle class. They don’t want to be rich, they don’t want to be poor. They just want enough. Enough to live comfortably on. That means food for their families, a home over their head, a secure job and future, enough money for a few luxuries now and then, maybe a family vacation once a year. They just want peace and contentment in their lives.

With all the voices I have heard and read this week, I have come to realize that all any of us wants is peace in our lives. We have the right as human beings to it. Sometimes we feel we need to speak out for that right, vote for that right, or fight for that right. Sometimes the repercussions of our shouts for peace are greater than we thought. Sometimes our actions in our quest for peace are not peaceful methods.

I pray for peace. I pray that we each can find peaceful avenues to seek that peace. I pray for ways and means that bind us together in peace, rather than divide us. I pray for leaders that use peaceful means to bring about equality and justice for all. I can start with myself. I can do it by searching for my own inner peace, encouraging and building peace within my family and other relationships, and generously contributing to peace-making, life-building efforts in my community, nation and planet.

All we want is peace. Consider carefully how you can find that peace for yourself.

Robin in My Tree

There’s a little robin in my Japanese Cherry tree out front. He seems to be living there. I think he stays because it is protection and the cherries are a source of food and every once in a while, other birds come for a visit. He watches me through the window while I work on my computer.

But I worry about him. Winter is coming, temperatures are dropping. We have had frost and even snow further north. He needs to go. He needs to head south. I’m afraid he may die if he overstays his visit.

There are times in my own life that I have stayed too long. We can get caught up in feeling too comfortable or familiar with a situation. Sometimes we are too afraid of the new and the unknown to move on. Perhaps it seems like too much work. “Why change? This isn’t so bad,” we say. Until it is.

Choose your timing well. But it needs to be a decision that is carefully thought out and assessed fully. Step back and look at your life with a bigger picture than just today. And then make your decision. Take full responsibility for your life.