Dealing with Loss

…Only when the seed cracks open…

Indeed, only when, like the seed, your heart is cracked open, can new growth sprout.

Of the Four Directions, the most difficult one is the North, the Guardian of the silent Mystery below. Often visualized as the Hermit, Old Man Time holding the scythe, icicles hanging from his long white beard, with a lantern in his hand. What is this lantern? What is he illuminating?

To those with courage, he is telling the never-ending story of incarnated Spirit: that life continues forever, but in different forms; that to continue forever, it needs death and decay; that loss is the bridge to new life; and that new life will need infinite faith, patience and care.
According to the Kabala, for about a year, the departed transcends a number of bodies of increasingly low density and of increasing light. During that time, teachings take place as well as continued communication with loved ones, often to reassure, but sometimes to ask for assistance in these transformations. The departed may also offer assistance to the living. Eventually, though, there comes that last encounter, often as a vision of leaving again, saying goodbye, going into the light, or going to sleep and passing into a new dimension. For the living who understands, it is like a second death, a more final one this time; and the heart is torn open once more.

Yet, on the side of the living, a distant light has already started to shimmer. But first, the wading through pain; touching objects still warm with a presence; swallowing the emptiness; seeing the void, even wondering if it wouldn’t be easier to jump into that void oneself; blaming oneself for not having “saved” the loved one from the fatal event; anger, rage, despair, hopelessness, resentment… and every now and then, a feeling of lightness that surprises!

Indeed, Old Man Time is at it again, but this time, with his healing power, moving us towards his neighbor, the Guardian of the East where the crack in the tiny seed is showing a tiny green dot: the first sign of new growth! New questions pop up, such as: where would I like to live? Who do I want to be? What would make my life meaningful?

While in that process myself, I had this dream:

I am shown 3 concrete 3 x 6’ frames on the sidewalk of a market place.
In the first one is a mound of decaying vegetables and meats with worms and scarabs working intensely in it.
In the second one is pure, silky, black dirt.
In the third is a cornucopia of fresh flowers, vegetables and fruits, ready to be harvested.

Worms transform compost into fertile soil, and scarabs symbolize self-birth. Without this process, there is no cornucopia. Translated into English, going through the pain honestly and thoroughly is essential to transformation. Denial or suppression of pain with distraction or medication tends to desiccate the compost, thus delaying its passage from decay to fertile soil.

Indeed, it is the tears that cleanse the wounds, open the heart, rejuvenate the soul. It is the true feeling that gives birth to humility and compassion. They unveil, for a first glimpse, oneness with all other living beings who also suffer, awaken, laugh, build, understand; they open our eyes to the realization that nothing remains unchanged, ever; that incarnation is about eternal cycles of transformation; that new opportunities are always available. It is when the tears have washed away the rage and despair that we begin to see the next picture.

This dream in Marie Louise Von Franz on Dreams and Death illustrates this beautifully:

A man climbs to the top of a tower, and looks out.
He sees a white dove flying from left to right;
then another dove that flies a while and then dies.
Soon many doves fly, faster, being born as tiny baby birds, growing to adulthood, old age, then die.
Then he sees more birds flying faster and faster, until it is one continuous white chorus of feathers that flies endlessly.
While each individual bird must still go through birth, maturity and death, the flying flock is now simply one feather cloud.
It simply IS.

And, so are we.

Claudine