Loss Processing
In October 1994, I had just turned 14, and Mariah Carey’s song, “I Miss you Most at Christmas Time” is released as the 5th track on her ‘Merry Christmas’ album. I remember belting the song in my room (of course, because that was how I do) and thinking about the lyrics, listening to the complete heartbreak in Mariah’s voice. As I’m processing the emotions and feeling mostly grateful that I can’t relate, the thought of death forms as a substantial mystery in my mind. I remember distinctly thanking God that no one I was close to had ever died, and dreading the day when it happened, but also being curious about it. Even then, I could tell it was impactful and life changing. I wondered what kind of person I would be after going through that experience.
It would continue to be a mystery I lived with for 20 more years. Then, it began to rain in my heart. I lost my Nana (who was like a second mother to me), then Papa, who suffered with heartbreak without her for 4 long years. The next year, my buddy - my Dad - died at age 63 from a very unexpected heart attack. Then, only 3 months later, my best friend, roommate of 3 years, and major support system after my dad’s death was killed tragically in a car accident. The rain in my heart had turned into a full blown, category 5, heartbreak hurricane in a very short period of time.
This year will be the 5th anniversary of hurricane Heartbreak, but Mariah Carrey’s sentiments are just as true as they have ever been.
The gift this year is that I have discovered a power within my mind that I didn’t know I had. And that there are tools I can use, and be okay, even thankful.
With Loss Processing, the goal is not to detach from self or others, but there is a profound power in experiencing the freedom of non-attachment from anything and everything too. It sounds extremely complicated and contradictory, but all the best things are.
My favorite exercise right now I found from a really cool psychiatrist, Phil Stutz. The meditation looks like this:
Pick out something you feel attached to. Imagine grasping it like it is a tree and you are holding on to a branch. Because of gravity, your fingers are slipping, more and more until then, you finally let go. Picture yourself falling, silently, slowly. Imagine the feeling is actually peaceful. When you finally land, you have realized that you have landed on the surface of the sun. Imagine you begin to burst into flames, then… you burn up. You melt completely into the sun and become the sun. You start to radiate light in all directions. Waves of heat are coming out of you from everywhere. What you are giving out is warm and bright and going out in all directions. Next, you look around. You see an infinite number of suns around you. They are everywhere! Millions in all directions as far as you can see. And they are saying to you, “Now you are in the sun world.” Accepting this fact, there is nothing you can do except give. You cannot take, you can’t grasp, its completely impossible even as you try. You need nothing. Your purpose is to give.
The “Sun World” is certainly not a world we know of logically where we could experience it in reality, but that is the beauty of the imagination. Anything we can imagine has the power to change us. Our imagination is something that sets humanity apart from any other being. Humans not only have the power to imagine, but also to create. I love animals, and I’m not convinced that they aren’t magical and contain a huge amount of possibilities, but as I look at animals, I see them repeating the same actions. Fox’s build dens, ants build hills and underground mazes. But there’s something a little different about humans. We built Disney World, and the Lord of the Rings, The Mona Lisa, Religions, and the friggin’ Internet! So easily, anyone could imagine “Sun World.”
Everybody knows that losing someone you love is a real pain. It is a hurt that cannot be fully known until it’s experienced. But sometimes, when I’m in a moment when it hurts like hell, finding a comfortable spot, doing this quick meditation, and reimagining the hell is actually a “Sun World” where I am not alone and we can all give, really helps. Even briefly thinking about “Sun World” helps me understand my WHY. It helps me escape the fear of future loss too, because it is only a matter of time when my fingers will be slipping off that tree branch again.
Have you been through a Hurricane of your own? Maybe you could find this as a functional gift under your Christmas tree this year too. I hope so. Feel free to open it early, and often, as needed. I truly hope your holiday season is profound this year, and creative, and magical, and full of possibilities and purpose!
XOXO, Brooklyn
“Death is not a permanent condition if you believe in rebirth.” -Phil Stutz
