Who do you miss?
Uncovering self knowledge
Hail and welcome to a new week!
I have been watching myself this last couple of weeks. Not in any deep meditative way or in a quest for further personal enlightenment. Just to see how I grieved for my mother. How I coped with the immediate loss and then when I met my family.
How would I behave? How would I act? What would my choices be? When the news first reached me, I was actually talking to Jean on Facetime. I had an outburst of choking crying that you will be surprised to know, I tried to disguise.
As I arrived back in Bahrain after a week in England tending and being with my family I began to see some kind of pattern emerge. What it says about me, I will have to leave you dear readers to draw your own conclusions and perhaps proffer some insights. There were three points of reference, three levels and scenes I kind of noted.
Firstly in my reactions to the devastating loss that Dad has experienced. It has moved me deeply as you can imagine. He had lost his wife of 40+ years after a few years of struggling with loving his wife in-spite of her dementia. He is an Englishman of that generation that keeps a tight rein of emotional states, in public and even in private. His spirits and emotions have been raw and barely containable, nevertheless. Social constraints barely managing to disguise the pain and bewilderment following a loss. The hurting soul that is losing a part of its very self.
My Mother and Dad were soul mates. What could I possibly do or say to assuage such a cataclysmic event in a fellow human beings very soul? I just stood by him. All I could do. I was reminded of the words of George MacDonald,
They ought to be taught that they have bodies; and that their bodies die; while they themselves live on … that we talk as if we POSSESSED souls, instead of BEING souls.”
Secondly last Saturday I went for a walk from my parents village to Sandy Warren. That especial place being what I call my ‘grove’. Think of the names of other religions places of worship and prayer. This Druid has a grove: the Oak and Yew and Chestnut woods and purple heather heathland of that ancient area of settlement.
In fact this place is itself the reason I am a Druid. Except this time I was in the company of my eldest Son. I showed him that place. Explained its significance for me. All new information and a new story for him. Then at Galley Hill in his company I held a brief ritual in memory of my mother amongst our ancestors of that Celtic Hill Fort now itself now some 2500 years old.
Her breath is now their breath and as I meditate with a breath….mine too. My Son was deeply respectful as you know we all here in the wider Word Emporium family, expect of each other.
Thirdly all of that week I was in England I was trying to be a son myself, who is caring. Yet I sensed the hollowness within me. I started to think about it. Of course, losing a mother, all things considered would leave such a gap. That void was indeed present and remains there. Yet it was not that aspect that was preying on my mind. All week I felt and missed Jean. My mother had passed and amongst it all, I really wanted my partner with me. She was on face-time every day. Yet that is never the same.
Then I thought, why? Is it not morbid, selfish to want her with me in such distressing and distraught times? Was it simply because in such circumstances I’d prefer to be just one among tbe crowd? Not accepting responsibility, challenges, or decisions and sharing in grief with family but always with a secret oasis of love and care amongst it all?
Then I looked at the obvious evidence in front of my own eyes. Remember the first case above?
Jean is my beloved.
Which made realise that those who we miss is a useful lesson to have in mind as we navigate through life. Who we miss is itself a sign of our Souls connection to the fundamental principles of our universe: principles of interrelationship, collaboration, synchronicity. In life and death and as a druid, I believe in the Summerlands that follow the earthly existence. Like Tir Na Nog.
Have a blessed week everyone!
Yours,
Syre Byrd