Nothing like a big loss to put things in perspective. Whether it’s the loss of a loved one, a job, a dream… but maybe, just maybe, especially when it’s a loved one. It just seems to make so many other things seem unimportant.
Work deadlines? So what.
Work assignments? No thanks.
People complaining about trivial things? Shut up.
None of it matters.
Losses and tragedy can help you see things more clearly, even in the midst of the brain fog that accompanies trauma and grief.
I think people should get at least a week off of work when there’s a death in the family, or a house burns down, or some big trauma or loss has occurred. I think it should just be a given that it’s optional to work. Everything can wait. And if it can’t, then someone else can do it.
Oftentimes any sense of urgency is just an illusion. A construct. Or a result of poor planning. Or something unexpected happening resulting in a time crunch. Sometimes things truly are time sensitive. But often, they are not.
This morning I was on the verge of feeling (or maybe already feeling) annoyed by some miscommunication or misunderstanding with someone about something we both work on, and trying to schedule when something should be happening…. but then they told me something along the lines of “sorry, we’re in a bit of a funk over here because of a death in the family a couple days ago.” I also experienced a heartbreaking loss a couple days ago, and someday I’ll share more about that, like in one of my upcoming books. But for now I’ll just say that when I read those words from this other person, my heart sank, and I got it.
So I shared my condolences and that I had also suffered a recent loss, which was making me feel foggy and irritable. And then I said something like, “so, really, honestly, who cares about the timing of this? It can wait. Compared to the loss of a loved one, it really doesn’t matter.”
And in addition to this making me think about perspective, it was also a good reminder that we never really know what’s going on with someone else, unless they tell us or unless we ask. Asking can be a tricky thing though, as sometimes it’s not really appropriate or could feel nosy or like a boundary violation. It really depends on the relationship, the context, and why you’re asking (such as genuine concern and care vs something else).
And boundary setting is so important during times of processing grief and loss. It’s always important. But while other things lose their importance and don’t matter as much during grieving periods, boundaries become even more important. Knowing what you need. Knowing what you want and don’t want. Knowing who you want to talk to and who you don’t want to talk to about it. Telling people you’re taking time off or can’t make guarantees. And one of my favorites? Setting up an auto-reply in my email accounts.
I know not everyone has the luxury of taking all the time off they really need, but there are little ways to create more spaciousness for yourself, such as:
Saying no to whatever you can say no to.
Setting up auto-reply in your email account(s) to say you might take longer to reply or give a specific date by which you’ll reply.
Turning off or silencing your phone at certain times.
Canceling or rescheduling whatever you can, especially if there are things that you feel you really cannot cancel or reschedule.
I also think it helps to remember how tiny we are, to take a look at earth, and ourselves, from far away. I know for some people this type of perspective actually feels bad— scary, anxiety-producing, freaky, depressing, or somehow overwhelming…
But for me, it brings a sense of peace. It even makes my grief seem like not as big of a deal, and so I get moments of feeling like whatever happened doesn’t even matter. Nothing matters. And not in a depressed or angry way. In a liberating way. We are all so tiny compared to the vastness of the universe. Any sadness, worries, frustration, wounds, painful stories, heartache, anxiety— you name it, any and all of that uncomfortable, bad-feeling stuff— it can all dissipate; it can float out into the vastness of space.
That’s actually one of the biggest gifts I’ve received from Sheng Zhen—the main practice I teach: experiencing that sense of negative feelings and thoughts, and even pain in my body, dissolving into the vastness of space. Sheng Zhen teaches you how to feel a sense of oneness with the universe. And from that perspective, it’s not about feeling tiny, it’s about feeling big, so big. When you’re as big as the ocean, when you are the ocean, even big waves don’t matter. And when you’re one with the universe, all problems seem so tiny that they don’t really matter so much, they don’t hurt so much….they’re muted now, in the background, or totally gone…
And if you’re feeling confused by what I just wrote, let me clarify: I feel a sense of relief both in the recognition of how tiny I am in the grand scheme of things AND in the concept and feeling of being one with it all, in which case I’m not really tiny; I am big. Bigger than anything that could disturb my peace. But I’m also human. And humans have feelings. Humans have to grieve.
So I give myself space for that. And I hope you give yourself space too.
