Healing through Grief

During a Skype conversation between my best friend and I (he was in India and I was in the US) in September 2012, my best friend of 6 years told me "Katie, no matter what happens, I will love you forever." The second most heartbreaking phone call I've received in my adult life came just two months later when my other best friend called me on a Monday morning in mid November. "Katie, he's gone."

I've experienced deaths of loved ones in my life (one of the most painful of my childhood occurred when I was just 11 years old)....but none of them have been quite as emotionally painful as the sudden, unexpected loss of my young, kind, and loving best friend. One day while talking about the difficulties of managing my grief/loss while still going to work and trying to be a good therapist to my clients, an intern whom has been doing clinical assessment training with me told me about this book.

"Healing Through the Dark Emotions" salved the emotional pain in my psyche like nothing or no one else could during these last 6 months, for which I'm incredibly grateful. Miriam Greenspan is not only a therapist whom offers professional insights, she has been through her own personal battles with grief and loss as well. Instead of perceiving it as a hopeless negative, however, Greenspan seizes the pain as an opportunity for potential growth. She encourages readers to look deeply within themselves with compassion and curiosity, urging them to surrender to the pain instead of resist it....because as painful as it feels to do so, it is more fruitful to embrace it than let it fester into destructive pain that leads to addiction and overall health dis-ease.

If you're looking for a meaningful (possibly life changing)grief and loss book that strays off the beaten path (ie, one that is not pop psychology-ish), this is the one for you.

Going my own Way

(Photo taken by me, near the Arboretum, Sept. 2011)

For my senior year high school English class, students were required to pick a novel of their choice and then write an analysis paper about it. While I can't recall the various book selections we were given as examples to choose from, I do remember thinking that I did not want to choose a book that everyone else would pick or one that I knew too much about....though if you asked me at the time, I doubt I'd be able to articulate why. As I scanned the page, few options stood out in my mind. Or rather one in particular. My eyes curiously wandered to Herman Hesse's "Siddhartha." "What is this about?" I thought. And so began my discovery of Buddhism and more so, the beginning of my own self-discovery.

I suppose I had started going my own way prior to reading "Siddhartha" senior year, though it wasn't until that moment that it was brought to my awareness that my path in life has always been different than 'everyone else.' And for the first time I realized this was a good thing. It comforted me, inspired me, and pushed me forward. Suddenly being different and apart from the crowd was a strength, a sign of growth and the embodiment of genuine enlightenment.Western religion has never done that for me. Ever.

When times get tough and the road feels lonely, I find myself going back to Eastern philosophy time and again. Buddhism. The Tao Te Ching. The works of the spiritual mystic Osho. The wisdom, compassion, and non-judgmental encouragement of finding one's own way pours into me and through me. The paradox is actually quite hilarious when I think about it, at least for me. So many fearful people blindly following a religious path that really isn't their own, just words of everyone else because...it's easier?! But it's not. The same individuals are fearful of having their own unique perceptions and feelings, especially what choices to make with them. The last thing they want to do is think about them, yet going your own Way is the first step on the path to understanding, freedom, and growth.

Recently, a friend of mine kindly and unexpectedly mailed a book to me. "Path of Compassion: Stories from the Buddha's Life." I'm slowly savoring each chapter like a child comforted by nightly bedtime stories. I feel both alone and not alone reading the courageous journey of Siddhartha, boldly embracing the judgments of loved ones and strangers alike. Most of all, I'm comforted and inspired by his letting go of external pressures of what they want him to say or do (ie, their own agenda) in favor of going his own way...not only for himself, but also for the greater good.

And with this, I am reminded (again) to continue...going my own way.

The Unknown

Why does the 'unknown' possibilities of future life experience tend to primarily hold a weight of such fear and anxiety for people? Why does one tend to jump to the conclusion that something will be horrible, a failure, humiliating, or that one somehow won't 'rise to the challenge?' Such a mentality leads to a self-fulfilling prophecy. If one never ventures outside of the known, how will one ever truly and intimately know oneself...or the world?

Knowledge can be attained through external and contrived means, while wisdom occurs through integrating both personal experience and intellect on a deeper level. Knowledge may be easier to acquire because it requires less choice; it's more of a one-sided event. It's like doing a research paper. You look up information from various scholarly articles, books, and professional forums. You take notes of what other people say about the subject and put it all together to hopefully form a cogent paper. After the paper has been completed, however, how much of it becomes "part" of you? For me, this is the difference between knowledge and wisdom. A paper full of knowledge is not something I will remember or deeply resonate with in the long-term. Wisdom is different; it has no shelf-life in the recesses of my mind. All else may be taken away from me, but I will always have the wisdom that has meaningfully accrued over the span of my life experiences. As I reflect on those experiences that have provided me the richest wisdom, I can attest it has usually been the result of those 'unknown' moments I chose to embrace rather than hide, flee, or freeze.

Embracing juicy risks in lieu of the comfort of familiarity or status quo....this is what I seek and live for. Don't get me wrong. I would be lying if I said I have no anxiety or that my worst enemy can be my own imagination....I just choose to do something in spite of that part of my mind that freaks out. I recall the many times I have been able to 'hold my own' and know that whatever happens, will either be great or perhaps just an opportunity to learn something intimate about myself that wasn't brought to awareness before. I know you're waiting for an example (or maybe not, but I'm going to give you one anyway) to apply what I describe, so here's an experience I had that led up to writing about my reflections today.....

I had been talking with a friend of mine here in Seattle about my curiosity to go to the annual Seattle Erotic Art Festival (SEAF) a few months ago. As she has lived in Seattle for about 7-8 years now and boldly embraces the erotic arts (ie, she occasionally teaches strip/pole dance classes), she has been attending SEAF regularly since she moved to Seattle. I knew if there was anyone I would want to have this 'unknown' experience with, I would want it to be her. The funny, ironic thing is I haven't even known her that long.....but there's something about her I truly admire and find incredibly refreshing. She is confident and comfortable in her own skin. Her confidence oozes and radiates toward others around her. Some people find this intimidating; I find it welcoming! So when I asked her if I could join her and her fiancee at SEAF, I was happy she said yes.

It wasn't until the morning of the event that I started to get a bit nervous. We were talking on the phone, making plans for what time to meet at the Seattle Center Exhibition Hall.

She told me it was a black tie event and everyone was going to be dressed up, adding that people could be wearing anything from formal wear to fetish attire.

"Last year there was someone wearing a pony costume," she joked. We excitedly agreed on how much people watching there was to be had. My only concern was what to wear, given the nature of the event.

Funny enough, in the everyday world one may tend to be concerned with wearing something that will look too racy or provoke too much attention. In this instance, I was concerned of the opposite. I wondered if I needed to wear an outfit that would fit the aforementioned qualities. My conundrum was not wanting to wear clothing that would make me stand out in a boring way. I searched the depths of my drawers for something remotely sexy that I could safely wear outside of my bedroom, crossing my fingers I still had that pair of red fishnet stockings I bought back for my Halloween costume in 2004. Sigh. No such luck. I then got pissed at myself, thinking Why the hell did I ever get rid of those?!?!

Moving on, I was thankful I at least had my hot pink tights to slightly spice up my classy, albeit conservative black blouse and black skirt combo. I resigned myself to the fact I might be the most conservative looking person there. Oh well. Screw it. Isn't the purpose of something like this to emphasize how erotic pretty much anything can be? I rationalized to myself in that moment that it didn't matter what I was wearing, but how I felt about myself. I was feeling beautiful and confident with my body. I was feeling adventurous, my heart beating fast at this bold new experience I was about to embrace. I was also open to seeing anything and everything that might be at this event; it was an adrenaline rush. Off I went.

Greeting my friend and the love of her life, I was immediately taken in by the art gallery feel of the place. I'm not sure what I was expecting, maybe something more explicit and in your face. I was wrong. It was a colorful, classy assortment of erotic art strewn along the walls with unique performance art in between its open spaces. The atmosphere was warm and relaxing to the senses. My friend commented with joyful surprise that she couldn't believe I showed up, as she had invited other people and I was the only one "who had the nerve."

"Really?" I said, taken aback with surprise. Throughout the course of the evening, she proudly introduced me to her friends and acquaintances as the "SEAF virgin." I smiled and chuckled in amusement.

Ever the curious voyeur of human nature, I soaked in the night like a sponge. There was the huge pink couch/chair in the shape of a boob. The professional rope/bondage man demonstrating in his performance art how a couple can intertwine rope between each other in bed (on an actual bed). A fanciful burlesque show with visually stimulating (and at times, period piece specific) costumes. White porcelain Kleenex holders in the shape of a butt with Kleenex coming out of them; that cracked me up. People watching galore. A woman whose fetish was to have onions grated on her nether regions, which some people openly obliged for her (this I couldn't wrap my head around....especially onions, yikes! But, whatever floats your erotic boat!). A room where you could have tasteful photos taken (erotic, not porn), though the photographers seemed less than amateurish. I think I could have done a better job at those photo shoots. When my friend and her fiancee had their picture taken, she told me they were just pointing and shooting with no quality creative goal in mind. Shame on those "photographers," especially for overcharging what mostly turned out to be shoddy photos.

On the other hand, what most impressed me was the erotic photography I saw as I walked by the numerous walls. I only wished the framed photos on the walls were cheaper. I was drawn to a photo of a woman's black shoes laying on the end of a bed. There was something about the way it was shot and the contrast of black and white (though it was a color photo) that caught my eye. Too bad it cost about $300. Though I couldn't afford to purchase it, I wandered into the festival's store and did find another photo I had liked from the photo gallery...this one more within my price range: a woman with red hair across her face (in mid motion as she had turned her head to the left) wearing what I can best describe as a black skin tight outfit covering her torso. There are small holes all over the black shirt, very subtly exposing the woman's breasts and nipples. It looks like something you would see in a fashion magazine. Hot, yet classy. I bought my very first erotic (and professional) photograph that night!

As the evening progressed, I talked with my friend and pointed out specific pieces of art that really resonated with me. I couldn't help but happily smile as she remarked with an impressed tone of voice how much she's learning about/seeing a different side of me.

When we tend to judge a book by its cover, we lose the possibility of being able to see others (and ourselves) in the various (and sometimes intimate) contexts of experience. I'm glad I haven't lost this ability to surprise myself, and other people. Now that's wisdom and excitement I can hold onto for years to come. No pun intended.