March 2006
MY HEART'S JOURNEY

I'm sitting here in front of my computer screen with the intention of finishing the March newsletter. I have sat in this spot numerous times this week with little results. I have a chosen topic and created a very rough draft yet I am immobilized and unable to complete this process.

The heaviness in my heart distracts me. An array of feelings keep swarming inside, often overwhelmingly bubbling forth. I feel sad, confused, angry, fragile, vulnerable and cry often. I decide instead to write about what
is alive in my heart at this moment.

This week I experienced the loss of a dear friend. It is the third time within 5 months in which I have traveled the path of pain and sorrow. The prior two long-time friends had extended illnesses which provided some opportunities to say good-byes and spend treasured time with one and another. The dynamics of this last situation are different.

Although we met each other only a few months ago, we shared an immediate friendship and connection that felt as if we had been friends for a lifetime. Our nearly daily lengthy phone conversations and frequent home or hospital visits created a bond of caring and compassion that I dearly embrace. As health challenges increased, my friend became more and more weary of medical procedures and loss of freedom and finally decided she had experienced enough. She chose to conclude her time on this planet. I suppose I will never fully understand the meaning of her decision. That's between her and God. I seek and find some comfort in trusting her proclaimed faith in this transition and the peaceful manner in which she passed.

My outpouring of emotions changes moment to moment. I am not willing to deny or stuff away the pain, hurt, guilt, tears and sadness that surface. To do so would be to deny the love that existed in our relationships. It is because of our mutual compassion, love, the fullness or our friendship, and deep regard for one another that I am able to feel such intense sorrow. I acknowledge that I want more - more of them, more of us! I was and still am not ready for those relationships to end on the physical plane. Sure, I believe in the immortality and eternality of their spirits and I celebrate their profoundly full and rich lives, yet I painfully miss not being able to hold their hand, warmly embrace one another, and listen to and support each other's journeys.

There is a void in my life. I miss my friends. I wonder if there was anything more I could have done to make their lives more comfortable or given them hope to live longer? I miss my friends. I wonder if they were aware of the bountiful blessings they bestowed upon me? I miss my friends. Did they know how much I loved them? I miss my beloved friends. I hold a special place in my heart for each one. Their light still radiates within me and illuminates a path of compassion in times of gloom.

And so, I mourn. Mourning invites me to go deeper into myself, to heal the wounds of grief. I connect with friends who lovingly offer empathic listening and I carve out time for reflection: journaling, sitting in silence, listening to soft soothing music, minimizing demands or expectations, creating "me-time" for engaging in more nurturing
self-care practices, taking naps, and allowing myself to cry whenever I am so moved. I am at choice in how I honor myself and this tender time.

"When tears come, I breathe deeply and rest. I know I am swimming in a hallowed stream where many have gone before. I am not alone, crazy, or having a nervous breakdown . . .
My heart is at work. My soul is awake."
Mary Margaret Funk

I recall a memorable and compassionate situation last August that reminds me that children also are not immune from experiencing loss. I had a long-term substitute teaching position in a 4th grade class (I still call them "my fourth grade family"), the same one I wrote about in the September 2005 newsletter. After lunch on
my first day, one of the students, Mary, asked me if she could make an announcement. She emphasized the importance of this opportunity and how much it would mean to her. I complied.

Mary announced that the reason she had been crying the last few days was because her grandmother had recently died. As she told her story, she was moved to tears, as we all were, and I comforted her with a hug. At the end of our embrace, I turned around and noticed that every student had their hand raised. With inquiry, I discovered that each one had a story of loss to tell. This is when we formed our first community circle.

After quickly setting a few ground agreements, we formed a "circle of compassion." Using a teddy bear as a talking stick (the person holding the bear is the speaker, the rest listen with their heart), the bear was passed from child to child, each having an opportunity to describe their situations. Often in community circles,
especially the first time, many children pass or choose not to take a turn, primarily not yet feeling safe enough
to divulge such intimate information. But not this time!

Every single child had at least one story, sometimes several, to tell regarding the loss of pets, relatives, friendships, never knowing grandparents, relocation, divorce, illness, poverty, racial exclusion, loss of material possessions via burglaries, evictions, loss of safety in their neighborhoods, loss of dreams, roles and innocence, etc. Children spoke of pain experienced years ago as if it happened yesterday. Tears were shed, some wounds healed and a "family-like" bond formed. Afterward, students commented on the "specialness" of that day with gratitude and appreciation for being heard, fears and tears being acknowledged and feeling safe and loved.

Last Friday, the day after learning of my friend's choice, I taught in a 5th grade classroom. The reading class
had been assigned a story about an adolescent's death as narrated and perceived through the eyes of a sibling. Hmmm… coincidence? I shared with the students how tender and raw I was feeling because the story was reminding me of my precious and limited time with a friend who may soon be deceased. A flurry of questions arose primarily out of concern and curiosity. I was touched with their desire to understand, connect and hold me so gently in their hearts. As the day went on, students individually described losses and associated pains. I had a multitude of opportunities to empathically listen and nurture spirits. I'm guessing we were mutually comforting one another.

Children are impacted by and respond to loss differently than adults. Their responses depend upon age, prior experiences, adult support and surrounding circumstances. They need compassionate and caring adults to help them process difficult times.

Weave authentic listening throughout your interactions with children. Listening lets children know they are
valued and gives us insight into what's alive within. You may best be served by setting aside time daily to give children a chance to talk about fears, worries, struggles and then validate their feelings - they're real. Listen and respond patiently to their uncertainty and concerns. Let them know you are ready and available to hear what's
on their minds and hearts. And when you are not, reschedule a time when you are able to give your undivided attention.

Also be willing to share what is on your heart and mind without causing any undo stress or worry. Try not to overload them with information. Only offer details they can absorb. My experience is that when I model an unguarded heart and open a door for sharing and caring, children generally step through ready to give and receive. And when we are in this heart-connected space, the anchor of grief or sadness suddenly feels lifted.

Death and loss are natural and inevitable aspects of life that we all experience and often serve as wake up calls to cherish one another and the present moment. These life altering events often cause us to re-examine our values, priorities, relationships and how we currently live our lives. My life has been dramatically and compassionately altered already and in ways yet to be revealed. Please don't wait for death and trauma in order for you to treasure your precious, prolific life and loved ones.

Life is so, so precious - handle it with tender loving care. Our time on this planet is of uncertain duration, finite, tenuous, and of infinite value. Life is too short to hold grudges, blame or shame. It is easy to get caught up in busyness and take our loved ones for granted. Start today, start now. Hug your children, friends or family a little tighter and a little longer, remind them how much they are loved, valued, treasured and how their unique attributes contribute to your life being more wonderful. Tomorrow is not a guarantee so today:

Dance like no one is watching,
Love like you will never be hurt,
Sing like no one is listening,
Live like it's heaven on earth.

In loving memory of Tod, Jo and Georgia and
the many family members who have already passed.

With love and compassion,
Adrian

NURTURE A CHILD "NUGGETS"

Prayer for a Journey
Thank You, God,
Not just for life,
But for our journey through life.
Life is a miracle,
And a journey through life
Is so full of so many more miracles
If we travel with our Heartsongs.
Thank You, God,
For blessing me with the
Gift of Heartsongs,
So that I can enjoy my miracles.
Mattie Stepanek, April 1998

May your life always be guided by the heartsongs that sing within YOU!

Copyright © 2006 Adrian Reznik