To live in this world
you must be able to do three things:
to love what is mortal,
to hold it against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it,
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
Loss is the price that we pay for living. From the day we are born to the day we die, we are shedding bits and pieces of ourselves as we shape and reshape ourselves, our lives, and our futures. Like a snake which must shed its skin in order to grow, or a bird that must first molt to make room for its new stronger feathers in order to fly, we must let go of parts of ourselves, our identity, our sense of security, and those we love, in order to grow and flourish.
The bad news is that with every loss comes pain and anger, grief and sorrow.
The good news is that with every loss comes a new beginning, and an expanded future.
According to Judith Viorst in her book, Necessary Losses ... no matter what our age, growing up and letting go is hard to do. It is frightening and painful. The old ways always seem safer than the new, and we continually seek out the familiar until the pain of remaining where we are is greater than the pain we fear in moving on. We are like the Hebrew Children, who after crossing the Red Sea back slid and wandered for forty years in the wilderness, instead of pressing on to the Promised Land. Unless we learn to recognize our losses as necessary (or beyond our control) and "hold them close" - grieve for them- then "let them go," we will never grow, nor discover the many promised lands which lay before us.
Our growth from child to adulthood is a case in point. Our childhood is filled with necessary losses. As our bodies grow and change, old ways of behaving become obsolete. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly we are taught what to expect, whatto see,how to relate, what is right, and what is wrong.
There is a difference between the kind of developmental growing pains we feel as children and the distress we experience as we struggle to achieve emotional maturity during our young adulthood. Our twenties and thirties are filled with different kinds of necessary losses, as we learn our limitations, refine our morality, and discover that with freedom comes responsibility, with responsibility comes choices, and with choices come growth. As time goes by, we are forced to give up cherished ideals and fantasies. We learn, for instance, that relationships take a lot of work, and that "happily ever after" exists only in fairy tales. We discover that no one person can meet all our needs, and that we cannot meet all the needs of another. We learn that anger and frustration with those we love is normal, and that neither anger nor frustration precludes love. Each realization, each discovery, brings disillusionment and dismay. We struggle to hold on to our dreams and our self-images. We continue to look for Mr. Right or Ms. Perfect only to find again and again that the facade is thin.
Eventually we give up our dreams, one by one, replacing them with realities learned through experience. Every loss has its pain, and every loss has a potential for growth. It is only by giving up our fairy tale illusions that we can face reality and finally achieve the relationships we hoped for - through hard work, frustration, love, anger, and give and take.
One of the most difficult necessary losses (often encountered in our thirties and forties) is the loss of our own perfection. Oh, we know we aren't perfect, but we don't believe it. When we fall short of our own standards we often cannot forgive ourselves, and we become stuck. We cannot move on until we have corrected our mistakes, made amends, or simply achieved perfection the next time around.
It may be that we believe we should be the perfect husband or wife, parent, son or daughter, CEO, Sales Rep., housekeeper, professional (whatever we are), and as long as we hold on to that fantasy we will be guilt ridden, paralyzed, and unable to find peace. We and those around us will remain locked in a miserable dance of blame and discontent, until the pain becomes so great that we have to let go. For most of us, movement does not take place until it hurts too much to stand still. Then, finally convinced that no matter how bad the consequences of imperfection they cannot be worse than what we are suffering now, we break through the wall that has imprisoned us. And, the energy which is freed up will allow us to become whole, imperfect and functional. It is amazing what we can accomplish when we are no longer frozen by the fear that we have to do it all.
Throughout our lives we suffer not only the loss and pain induced by our psychological maturation but also the daily losses necessary to life in general. A friend moves away, we lose a job - or gain a job, WE move away, we change schools, a pet dies, our favorite grocery store or restaurant closes, - from the important to the trivial we are assaulted by necessary losses which in both large and small ways mold our lives.
But, now I want to speak of the momentous losses which change our lives profoundly: divorce, accident, illness, and the death of someone we love.
As an example, it was my divorce that forced me to stop, take stock, and re-invent myself in the face of devastating loss. The transition was not unlike the Easter story. I felt crucified. Some major portion of me died. I was trapped in a dark cave of despair for about a year; when I was ready and finally able to push away the stones that kept me trapped, I was born again - resurrected to a new life.
I believe that the Christian Easter Story and, in a different way, the Jewish Exodus Story are metaphors to guide us through the cataclysmic losses of our lives. They speak to us of death and destruction, they warn us of the "dark night of the soul" and of being lost in the wilderness, and they promise (if we will persevere) new life. Over and over again throughout our lives we will live out these cycles.
When a catastrophic event assails us, stroke, heart attack, cancer or some other major diagnosis, a serious accident, an act of violence, or the death of a spouse, a child, or a parent, we are forced to confront our own mortality and to ask "why?" What is the meaning of this? These losses are not the sloughing of old skin; they are the breaking away of huge chunks of ourselves. We may be forced to re-invent ourselves out of whole cloth. We ask: Who are we? Why are we here? How long will we stay? Do we even want to stay? What is left to do?
Our time in the wilderness, or the dark cave, may be long and tortuous. We may never find satisfactory answers to all of these questions, but at some point - if we are going to live - we will have to push back the stones and move on. We will emerge from our cave or from the "muddy waters of the Jordan" with a new understanding of life, and new resolve. Hopefully, what we have lost in physical or emotional prowess we will have gained in wisdom, determination, purpose, and spiritual strength.
For some of us our goals will have changed from running the four minute mile to being able to feed ourselves, but there is dignity and growth to be had from whatever challenges we face.
These are the losses that define us;no matter how devastating the losses we sustain, every loss is an opportunity for growth and change. And, somehow no matter what our stage or condition in life we always have something to learn, to teach and to share.
Sometimes, as I age from decade to decade, I am an emotionally and spiritually stronger person than I was at any previous time of my life. I feel wiser, more whole, and more sure of who I am than in earlier incarnations. I like who I am - this week - but I would not want to stop here. With each loss there is a gain: a gain in wisdom, a gain in maturity, a gain in understanding, and empathy. There are also gains in skills, determination, and achievement.
Some losses are NOT necessary, but our responses to them must be the same. With the loss of innocence, the shock, trauma, and the fear we have experienced since the terrorist attacks of September 11th, weare all challenged to make sense out of the chaos, and to give new purpose and meaning to our lives. As with all losses we have retreated, we live in a time of uncertainty, some of us are paralyzed with fear; others are reacting irrationally, and still others have pulled themselves together and marched forward as if nothing has changed (whether this latter choice is denial or fortitude only time will tell). All of us are effected in some way; we are all under stress. We have lost something of the world we knew, and as yet we do not know what will take its place. But at some point, different for each one of us, we will roll back the stones and wade into the waters as we cross into a new life, wiser, stronger, different people from who we were before. Perhaps, we will cherish life more deeply, or learn to savor one day at a time. Perhaps, we will find new meaning, or a renewed commitment to peace or justice, love or mercy.
Loss is the price we pay for living. Loss always comes with pain, but it can also lead to greater fulfillment. And our mission, if we choose to accept it, is to live to the fullest extent of our capacities until the day we die.
With all our necessary losses, as with life itself, we must hold them close, then when the time comes let them go. Let them go.
excerpt from Necessary Losses or http://www.cedarlane.org/01serms/s011104.html
The photograph was taken by me of an angel near here. It was produced in the Wolfe Gallery by the family of Thomas Wolfe who wrote the book, LOOK HOMEWARD ANGEL named after this statue.
No comments:
Post a Comment