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Mar 29, 2023·edited Mar 29, 2023Liked by Tad Hargrave

i feel like theres a contradiction between the gist of the whole piece and the idea that we need just to grieve. maybe there doesn't have to be. but there can be.

trying to make something of our awful experiences can become a distraction and a trap, another way to avoid feeling grief

whats needed for us to be able to feel grief is being safe enough to feel it...and if we aren't in my experience thats when we revert to trying to make something not be grievous. if we can keep holding to what we got out of or what we might have learned and still might learn from awful times, we don't have to face the grief. its a good strategy and needed at times, but it doesn't actually do what grieving does.

maybe its different for you, I'd be interested in your thoughts on that

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I’m of the same mind. Deeply grateful to have been graced by many wise and loving folks helping me to grieve and to redeem the many deaths, regrets and losses. I have none left. Just grateful I get to wake up another day, breathe another breath, make more “mistakes” or rather stumbles and attempts at filling my soul’s many bowls of hunger...

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Thank you, thank you Tad. I have also felt that sense of waste as I've looked upon my life - a longing sense of, "If only...." And not just about my own life, but what I wished to offer my children as their mother, my husband as his spouse, my loved ones as their daughter, friend, sister, or neighbor. As you beautifully write, it is through mourning that we find renewal. I know in my bones that nothing is ever wasted, and that nothing in my particular life is a waste. This knowing has arisen through grief, through each trip to the underworld - through the mourning and facing of what I wish had been different. It's such a strange but giving paradox, isn't it - how mourning helps us love.

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Beautiful Tad. There are few among us who have lived a life deeply and have not had pain, suffering, grief, loss of one kind or another. And each of us has, perhaps, felt that sense of 'wasted time' or thought 'if only' or been steeped in regret over deeds done (or left undone). What I'm aware of now is that this feeling of waste only ever shows up when life seems like a narrow, linear story with beginning-middle-end all wrapped-up tight. But stepping back a bit, I can see more of the full fabric of my life and its innately cyclical nature: every experience, neither good nor bad but just an experience I chose this time around, woven through it to make-up the unique tapestry that it is. This is when life becomes a thing of beauty. Or at least fodder for beautiful writing.

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Stunningly written and deeply moving. Thank you Tad!

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Thoroughly beautiful, thank you.

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In the west we are so wealthy that we do not value what we have, or take the time and effort to re-use things. We declutter but that mostly means throwing things away. Our grandparents generation knew deprivation and the value of keeping things ‘in case’. Though my favourite story is of someone who keep a jar of string with the label ‘string, too short to be useful’.

That generation had also lived through one, and sometimes two world wars. They also knew how to grieve, move on and live their lives to the full.

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This touches on such a deep theme. I love the final words: "But there are many years of our life... wanting nothing more than to be planted in the soil of our daily devotions, like a too long ignored guest craving to find their place at the table of honour in the mead hall of our consideration." I'm finding in mid-life that this is becoming daily practice- recognising the intrinsic worth of my experiences on Earth so far and, perhaps especially, that of those our societies would fast label as "wasted"- the "lack" experiences; not having become x, y or z; not having this or that dream realise; the loss of loved ones, of a particular future (isn't it interesting that we should mourn a future?)...

I'm starting to see this process of reconciling with the shadow of my "Dream Life, Dream Me" as the core of mid-life spiritual practice- being present to the grief, honouring what it's working in me, finding joy in present circumstances, going back to grieving, honouring, planting those seeds in the soil of daily devotions...

It brings to mind "Rien ne se perd, rien ne se crée" - the metaphor of compost- the alchemy in intentionally watering our "wasted" years with clean grief- such a rich, fundamental exploration.

It also brings to mind a quote that Sharon Blackie cites in "If Women Rose Rooted"- "No star is ever lost/ we once have seen/ we always may be/ what we might have been" (Adelaide Anne Procter)... which brings a "carrying forward" energy that makes me hope for the blossoming of those seeds, too.

Thank you for your beautiful post.

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Thank you for this. As a person that was diagnosed at 40 with ADHD and finally starting to understand what my life could have been like had I known earlier, this piece resonated deeply. It is very easy to slip into despair when you apply what you know now to what would have been nice to have known 20 years ago ( or more). My first marriage may not have fallen apart as spectacularly as it had. I may have been able to make it to University to get my Anthro degree. I may have not ended up in bankruptcy. But, I may also not have met the people I had, been blessed with my daughter, or found my spiritual path. Madness lies in always looking backwards. I am still grieving "what could have been" but I also understand that even had I had the knowledge of myself back then, it may not have turned out that much differently. We apply rose coloured lenses when looking at the past, I feel. We often see our choices as ours alone to have been made when there are so many external factors that shape our lives that we have no control over.

I also really loved the use of garbage as a metaphor, particularly as I am a big ol' hippie trying to do my best to reduce waste and reuse what I can. Even if what we think is a waste material, may not be to someone else, much like even our experiences can help others even if we ourselves feel as though we did not benefit from them.

Moran Tang!

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