an elegy on loss

***

She wakes early, showers; plans her day. Granola, with berries. Tea. There is a lot to do. A lot for her brain to do. It’s oppressive. She works for ten minutes, lies on the bed. It shouldn’t be this hard. It shouldn’t be this hard. To escape she seizes the much-loved novel, escapes to Italy, a different time, a similar heart. Her mind is struggling to impose order on things; she hears the kindly voice that lulls her to sleep, tells her it’s okay, if she’s sad she can work tomorrow, it’ll pass, I promise, I promise it will pass. Her brain needs rest, anyway. Better to fall into the warm embrace of sleep. Sleep seems to her a respite. She hears another voice: the voice says that something inside her is broken, fundamentally, and it always has been, and she will never overcome it, because of it she is just too …. for this world. The voice taunts her for lying still. You don’t love your work, someone else would love it more than you, enjoy it, you’re supposed to be enjoying it, why aren’t you enjoying it, you’re an ungrateful brat. You have everything but you can’t see it. It’s not enough for you. You will fall behind and fail. No one will love you for who you are. There is something about you. Something broken, unattractive. Repellant. Fat, actually. You treat your body with no respect, no love.

How can I love myself when you’re whispering evil things to me all the time? How can I create anything when you cripple my attempts by laughing at them? It’s not your fault, says a third voice. It’s not your fault. You didn’t choose to be born, much less to be born like this, with this paralysing desire for love. You can’t change your nature. Everything has already happened. You’re a mound of cells. Wired to have babies and be lumbered with them, struggling to love them, no power over what they become, not really.

Come on. You’re better than this, you have a fine mind, an acute sensitivity to things, feelings, people, you write sensitively, you’re eyes are a gift to the world. You’re healthy and strong and robust. You have endured so much. It hasn’t been fair. You’ve done the best you can. All your decisions make perfect sense. You are a wonderfully supportive friend and sister. You have got here, you were smart enough to get here, you can do this, it’s fine that you didn’t feel up to it today, there are people who have never betrayed you. There will be someone who makes it all worthwhile, who sees your acute vulnerability and comes to know you and also to learn how unbelievably easy it is to make you ecstatically happy, and that will be the most fulfilling thing in the world for him, and he will value your mind and the depth of your love more than anything else in his life. It’s a dark world. Full of mystery and horror. People are the threads that shine us through. The things we can hold on to through whatever chance might throw at us. There are a lot of people depending on you. I – I love you more than anything. We’ve come so far. Lived, fully. You are a relentless force. There is so much more to live for. It will be a thousand times more than what you felt when he was a possibility, when some part of you always doubted it. And even more so with him. Your mind and body sense this, they are waiting, they know it is what you were made for. But there is no point in compromise, you know it will only bring you grief. These weeks and months being single are hard. You’re not built for them. But that doesn’t mean they’re a waste. They’re part of the big picture, they set up the contrasts, the dark moments are the shadow, there are still wonderful bright moments of light. How brilliant that the best is yet to come. All that can be done during this period is to do your best on a daily basis. Look after yourself. As best you can. You’re in the best position anyone could wish to be. But it’s also okay if you can’t feel that always. Taking things for granted is part of the human condition. I love you.

 

***

A.R.A

February 2016

untitled poem

and finally the longed for arms, longed for eyes
are here with me and all
effort flies free it is easy as breathing
we sit and look at each other and the fear
The fear of not being known falls away
our June voices stretch though the
haze of darkened memories, darkened time
breaking through, sun
kissing a plant after a long time kept in the dark
***

A.W.

 Spring, 2017

On Mindfulness

I have sorta wanted to write an article about mindfulness ever since I did the university course in Michaelmas term of my second year, but I hesitate; this is mainly because mindfulness means different things to different people, and one of the greatest joys of it for me has been creating my own version of it, tailored to me, and exploring it on my own terms. So I am wary of prescribing what it is, and I am sure that there will be many things I have taken from mindfulness that other people haven’t, or that other people have picked up on but I haven’t. I am writing nonetheless because I think that it could do a lot of people a lot of good, really; it has done me a tremendous amount of good, and at this stage I feel the compulsion to share this goodness.

 

So what is mindfulness? At the heart of mindfulness for me is the practice of compassion. It starts with yourself. In a mindfulness meditation, you take the time to concentrate on all the physical sensations available to you, starting and ending with the feeling of the breath moving in and out of your body. You pay attention to the way it feels to be sat on the chair or lying on your bed, focusing on all the places your body makes contact with the bed or chair beneath you, and feeling the ground beneath your feet. This process is called ‘grounding’, because the practice of feeling the earth beneath you grounds you physically and mentally. Feet on the ground, bum on the chair you are safe, the earth holds you, and that physical security translates into mental security.

 

Grounding achieved, the idea is to continue focusing on the physical sensations available to you, as these ground you in the present. Of course, this is not the easiest thing in the world, and inevitably thoughts will arise, positive or negative, as they tend to do. The idea is to accept these thoughts as they arise, listen to them, and return to focusing on the breath when you can. The key is rather than getting frustrated with the lapse in attention you are wholly accepting of your tendency to get lost in thought, and respond by gently guiding your attention back to your breath and corporeal presence but only when you remember to.

 

One of the tenets of mindful practice is that thoughts and feelings are there to help you. Anger, sadness and anxiety exist not to just make you feel horrible but to highlight unmet needs, so that you are looking after yourself, body and soul, as well as possible. A useful image is to see these feelings as guests knocking on your door, whom during a meditation you take the time to lovingly welcome in, give a cup of tea, and listen to.

 

This is not an easy thing to do. Often our gut reaction is to reject sadness, anger, fear and anxiety. But by welcoming them and seeing them as things that exist to make us happy we can do ourselves a world of good.

 

One mindful practice that makes this easier is changing the way we think. Rather than thinking ‘I am sad’ we isolate the emotion within our psyche and think ‘part of me is sad’; this image is hugely helpful, because we are able to remember that the rest of us is available to embrace the sad part of us and give them the love and attention they need.

 

The more we are able to master the practice of self-compassion, the more we can feel compassion towards the people and things around us, starting of course with those closest to us who gain a great deal from our love and attention. With the ability to love ourselves generously comes the ability to love other people generously. Understanding your own needs gives you a great deal of insight into other people’s, and you are more able to respect other people’s needs and love them for exactly who they are, rather than just for the good things they bring to your life. During formal meditation, another tenet of mindful practice is to take a moment to think of those closest to you, hold awareness of them in your heart, and send love in their direction.

 

Having compassion for all other human beings is the next step. Sending love to those closest to you comes naturally; it is not as easy to extend love to everyone else in the world, but again, from empathising with your own needs comes the awareness that everyone on this planet has their own internal universe, their own worries and joys, and they are as deserving of love as yourself or your boyfriend or your best friend.

 

To make a slightly more questionable next step I would say the ultimate move is to extend your love to all the other living beings in this world, including the animals and the trees and the lakes and the mountains, respecting their own individual beauty and loving them for themselves, not for what they can do for you.

 

Not that loving things for what they can do for you is an impulse to be ashamed of. Shame gets in the way of compassion. Selfishness is a natural thing; it is about self preservation, really, and as such serves its purpose. Like every other emotional impulse, it is something to be accepted.