The Season of Release
It is here again, fall. The season that pulls at us to let go, re-write old patterns, slow down, look inward, accept what is and release the past. That familiar feeling when the light dims, the days chill and nights become crisp that speaks to autumn.
This season is not all cozy sweaters and warm tea for everyone. It can bring with it a flavour of sadness and a pull into the depths of grief, some old, some new, which can all mix together to carrying a heaviness. A feeling that can make one brace, resist and distract or just drop into a lingering emptiness. Whatever way a person moves through this is theirs and totally and completely okay.
As someone who knows grief intimately, I see you in all the ways it still hurts, long after the loss. For me, it has been thirteen years since I lost my best friend. As I write this, my throat tightens and my eyes fill with those familiar tears that only the love I felt for him can call up to my eyes. A kind of love that goes beyond the mind. Our connection I still do not fully understand. He was at my birth, in the arms of his father, when I came into this world. He was my person growing up. I roped him into playing the role of husband in the game of house, way past the age it was appropriate to do so.
I always had this feeling that he was not long for this world. Growing up in a small community, if I heard sirens, I always thought of him. I only realized this recently, which opened me even more fully into the mystery of our bond.
He passed on October 31st, which in the Celtic pagan tradition is when it is said that the thinning of the "veil between the worlds" and contact with the spirit realm is more available. Another magical aspect of his incredible life. Every year at this time, I start to feel him in my heart more vividly. I have a place where I go to visit him on a mountain on my island of origin, which helps to commune with him. Yet nothing is like having those silly conversations we used to have. Nothing is like having him in the flesh. I used to think that as time went on it would get easier. I am not sure I can say that is true. It changes, but the loss is still felt deeply.
He said to me in his last days, in a very lucid state… “so are you poking people yet?” He knew I was thinking about studying Chinese medicine. I laughed and said, “not yet, but I will.” He has been a guiding light on my path, a strength when I wanted to quit and a guide when I felt lost.
In Chinese medicine, autumn season is governed by the Metal element and connects to the emotion of grief. I have witnessed and hold space for peoples' grief in my clinic daily, hearing stories that would put you onto your knees. The resilience of the human spirit is remarkable. I do not begin to understand grief, but I will say it has its own way to move through each person. It is personal, and everyone navigates it in their own way.
If this season is a hard one, I see you and feel you. There are no words that can be said to take the pain away, but know that you are held in the loving arms of something bigger and you will make it through. Feel it and let it flow like a river through you. I heard once that grief is the residue of loving and I like that a lot.
These waves hit you when you least expect them, out of nowhere. That song comes on, that memory flashes, that picture comes up and you ride the current, breathing your way down the face of it, trying not to grip too hard and brace against the intensity. It is a practice of letting go and trusting the process. It is said in psychology that if you try and numb off or not feel one emotion, this blocks you from feeling all the other ones.
The autumn season brings in a time of introspection and reflection on our lives. Acupuncture and Chinese herbal medicine can be of great support through grief, a place to land when nothing makes sense.
Loving you through,
Melody
