Skip Forest, Skip... the sun is chasing us
by Alfonsina Betancourt
It looked like just another yoga class, a completely packed yoga class, I should say. I was in the front of the room, squeezed between a wall and three fellow practitioners. The instructor began by thanking people who had sent condolences after the loss of her mother. While recovering from this life-altering event, the instructor offered us a word that has sustained her in the last few days: acceptance. The message resonated inside my heart like a cathedral’s bell at noon because I knew that was a message I needed to hear. However, what shook me was not the opportune word but her explanation. She mentioned that while she had been grieving, someone advised her that maybe it was time to move on. Moving on?
Lately, I have been confronted to explore the theme of grief. I have been reading, writing, and meditating about it. According to various opinions and studies, I have discovered, advising someone to “move on” is counterproductive. Grief is a long process that needs to be felt, confronted, and accepted. There is no way around it. There is no magic pill or spell to make it disappear. But there is only one way to help it move along actively, and that is acceptance.
“Nothing brings down walls as surely as acceptance.”
— Deepak Chopra, The Third Jesus: The Christ We Cannot Ignore
As I kept reflecting on these ideas, a thought jumped in. Am I the only one who, on occasion, when confronted with very difficult and somewhat desperate circumstances, feels the strong need to run, to throw a Forest Gump skim and run without ever looking back? Lately, I have thought that maybe driving to either Alaska or Buenos Aires could be as effective. I am not a runner or an escapist; quite the opposite. I never leave a feeling unprocessed or hidden away. So when I am confronted with that need, it always surprises me because it feels like quitting. But there is an animal response to it. The amygdala receives sensory information, and when it alerts us that there is danger, a “fight-or-flight” response gets activated. Sometimes we fight, and sometimes running away from a circumstance seems like the only possible alternative.
Running away seems like “moving on.” Like a forced trip, the distance traveled is more important than the destination. But what happens when we are confronted with grief? Can we move on with the click of our fingers? The answer is a definite no. Grief is like a lead cloak. It feels heavy and paralyzing like our legs were broken and our bodies weakened. There is no fight or flight cell left in our bodies. The good news is that humanity has been going through this process for centuries, and the world somewhat keeps spinning. We don't want to run away when we lose someone or something we hold dear. Quite the opposite, indeed. We want to create roots to try to hold on to whatever we feel is left. So, no. Moving on is not possible when we are grieving.
We could, however, relinquish control and accept that we need to embark on the dark path of grief. Sometimes it looks winding, sometimes rocky, and sometimes runs in circles. In the beginning, we move slowly and need many breaks. The only thing we need is acceptance that there is no other way out, there is no other way, period. Acceptance that sometimes when we don’t have the strength to run, we will be carried by the flow of our assurance or as I have luckily witnessed in many occasions, by the arms of angels that are willing to walk part of the path with us.
“For after all, the best thing one can do when it is raining is let it rain.”
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 19th-century American poet
Acceptance is our ticket to healing. Resistance is like a revoked license. I wish I could say that we learn to grieve better, but I am unsure. We, however, get glimpses of light and sunshine after the storm, and in those moments, we will encounter many souls who are in the midst of the rocky grieving path. Let us learn to grieve so that we can become angels for others who may grieve differently than us, maybe with smiles on their faces or harsh words. Let’s activate infinite karma of helping hands because somewhere on a mat next to us, among downward dogs and awkward poses, there may be someone with a broken heart and paralyzed legs. Let’s tame our inner Forest Gumps to see that sometimes we just need to slow down to walk along with someone who needs us. Let’s learn that on occasions, we just need to accept the cards we have been dealt, fall on our knees, and cry and smile because we still get to walk the path of life. Let’s not move on, but let’s move forward because the sun is chasing us, and the path is long, and sooner rather than later, our grief will be a companion and not an invader. Let’s learn to grieve because no heart is more hopeful than a healed one. We just need to say the magic word to start moving the wheels toward that: acceptance. Say it aloud, and you will hear life chanting magical tunes, angels clapping, and birds chirping. Or maybe not, but I can guarantee you that eventually, we will. I know it because I have grieved and I have healed, as have so many others, and if there is one thing that makes us more aware of the beautiful world around us is realizing that regardless of how bad the storm seems, the sun will always come out and meet us where we are. And that is always worth waiting for!