enCouragingBliss: The Act of Communal Keening

In a recent email discussion with Rebecca, the concept of keening came up.

Our culture does everything it can to sanitize grief. When we come face to face with raw, honest grief, we barely know what to do, what to say. We become embarrassed. We put limits on it and time lines.

(A side note: Shortly before she died, Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, the woman who created our modern understanding of the process of grief, said that she was sorry for much of her work. She felt she had done more damage than good, telling people that their grief should look and act a certain way, when in reality, there are no "rules." None at all.)

And yet grief is a gift. It can be a time of crystal-like clarity. It is most definitely a time to learn about our vastness. Rather than shrinking from this experience, we should embrace it, allow it to envelop us.

When I teach beginner adult writers -- these writers who have had an unfulfilled ache in their hearts for far too long -- one of the first things I try to get them to do is to dig into their muck.

I try to help them to see that only by working through that muck can we ever hope to plant any sort of beautiful garden. Only by exploring our darkest places will we ever find our authentic writing voices.

What is true of writing is true of all life.

In order to live your bliss, you must be brave and honest and you must face your darkness. (Basic Jungian principles here.)

Joseph Campbell did not call this life the hero's journey because it was all chivalry and roses; he knew that dragons awaited us and that they must be slain.

So today, for enCouragingBliss, I am encouraging some communal keening.

Let your sorrows be heard. Honor them. Validate them. Claim them. Whatever they are.

Here is what I am currently keening over:

Stray cats. Yes. It is summer and the stray cats are coming out. I so want to help every single one.

All the sickness. Two people we know -- two people who are too young -- are entering, most likely, their last weeks. One of them is ready; the other is not.

Other sickness that is not so immediately life-threatening but is decreasing someone's quality of life.

Cruelty. Miss California. Oh, how sad (and angry) it makes me when someone like her becomes a poster child of sorts for "christianity." I want to scream, sometimes, Christ LOVES US ALL. GOD LOVES US ALL. Just stop being mean...

The fact that children can have so little value that if they aren't being regularly set on fire (or some such extreme thing), their pain is not seen.

People who get so caught up in the small, mundane matters of their own lives that they do not see the extreme despair right next to them, right there -- at that desk not two feet away.

That we will always spend more money on bombs than food; that we will always put our own comfort above the simple lives of others; that we will never sacrifice anything for anyone else; that violence will always be our reflex. (When I say "we," I am referring to the vast majority of Americans -- people who pretty much determine the quality of life on the rest of the planet.)

Now it's your turn. Nothing is "too small" or "too big."

Be honest. Be brave. Choose bliss.

(For this week, I've decided not to use Mister Linky. The communal keening will take place in the comments; if you feel the need to post about this on your blog, please feel free to link to your post in the comments.)

(Photo credit: Christine Reed, My Favorite -- Greenlander Tulip, 2009)