SACRED SILENCE

Have you ever been speechless? Have you ever been so deeply moved that you no words would form? When we hear of a diagnosis, a death, a loss, and find words are simply inadequate?

It happens to me a lot. I get a call and someone I care about has been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. What do you say? I want to be encouraging, but not sure I feel encouraged. I feel awful and find that no words are powerful enough to express my sadness for them or my helplessness in relation to their illness. I sometimes say "That really sucks!!" But, those words are no sooner out of my mouth when I feel foolish. Nothing is strong enough.

So, what do you do? I find that it helps to realize that nothing will be adequate.  The conversation will be awkward because both parties do not have words to express their feelings. It sometimes helps to ask some questions like, "When did they find out? or What kind of treatment are they going to do? or Who else have you shared this with? or What do you think you are going to do." But, we will run out of questions and silence will swallow any other word we might try to utter.

Now, the fact is, most of us will feel awkward and inadequate. There may be long periods of silence.  And silence often scares us.  When no one says anything we fill in the blanks with the anxiety we are feeling.  We project our feelings on to others. Silence has a certain emptiness to it.

But, remember, you are making contact.  You are reaching out. You are trying to speak a language that is unfamiliar to both you and the person you love. Neither of you has been here before. This is a foreign country with a foreign language.

Remember that we can't solve other's problems, but our silence communicates our respect for the depth of life with which another is struggling. And we can accompany another as they seek to work out their fear and their future. And the awareness that another person cares to be silent with us can sometimes be the strength we need to take the next step on an unwanted pilgrimage.

Silence in respect for the depth of another's experience can be a sacred space where some healing can happen. 

PAIN IGNORED

Pain is a clue to pay attention.  When we have a physical pain, it is important to listen to what it is telling us. It may be that our heart is under stress or it may just be that we pulled a muscle shoveling snow.

Emotional and spiritual pain are also important. When you hurt, pay attention.  It may be a clue to some serious disorientation or just a slight blip on the emotional journey.

In her book, "Mourning and Mitzvah", Anne Brener reports on her chaotic journey through loss as she grieved the death of her mother and sister.  In that journey and in her working with others, she has learned that "the only feelings that do not change are those that are ignored.  Only by facing our feelings do we learn and grow. Pain has a size and shape, a beginning and an end.  It takes over only when it is not allowed voice." 

While the painful feelings of loss are confusing and complex, to ignore them is to miss an opportunity to grow and learn. Loss creates a fizzier in our facade.  Just as the earth cracked open by an earthquake reveals layers of history, more of our souls are revealed when our hearts are in upheaval. Paying attention to the clues that pain uncovers helps us explore the mystery of our vast and expansive souls.

Pain has it's own size, its beginning and it's end. We are able to reduce it's size and journey toward it's end when we allow that pain to have voice.  We get stuck in the pain when we are silenced.

One of the greatest gifts we can give those who have experienced deep loss is a presence that creates space in which they can struggle to speak their confusing and conflicting emotions. It is sometimes a difficult task when we have come to expect that person to "have it together."  Or when we need them to be strong.  But, when they have a chance to give their pain voice, they have a greater opportunity to shrink the size of the pain and experience some healing. By your quiet presence, you can offer the gift of sacred space into which the pain of another might find voice.