THE SACRED EXPERIENCE OF LISTENING AND BEING HEARD

Many of my clients come to therapy because they have not been truly heard throughout their lives. Healing begins when the client feels heard by the therapist. When clients have an experience of being heard fully and without judgment by the therapist, they can take the experience of listening and being heard into their lives and experience the sacred space between themselves and others.

Being heard goes hand-in-hand with “active listening.”   Wikipedia describes  active listening as “a special way of reflecting back what the other person has expressed to let him/her know you are listening…. Active Listening is a restatement of the other person’s communication, both the words and the accompanying feelings, i.e., nonverbal cues—tone of voice, facial expression, body posture.”

Instead of active listening, we often interrupt the speaker with our own ideas or agenda, assume we know what the speaker is going to say and tune them out, get triggered by the depth of what is being said and shut down, or get distracted by our own thoughts.

Active listening involves one’s whole being. It is not just passive silence, but a way of using body, heart and mind to truly hear what the other person is saying and to convey that he or she is being heard. This is done through means such as paraphrasing, reflecting back what you heard, asking questions, maintaining eye contact or nodding your head.

Active listening is a mutual act between the listener and speaker. We listen not only to the words, but also to body language, inflection, tone and other modes of expression. For example, if a friend is telling a story about a great experience visiting family, but her facial expression seems sad, there may be something that is not being expressed in words.

The best instruction I have received for active listening is two words: “Be curious.” Using the example above, the listener might ask “your face looks sad to me when you just told me about your family visit. Is there anything you are sad about?” It takes practice to not assume that you know what is going on and to not judge what you have heard. Asking questions in this way allows both speaker and listener to go deeper and develop closeness and intimacy.

Something sacred happens through active listening and being heard. The Jewish theologian Martin Buber called this the “I and Thou” experience. A sacred space is created between two people when they truly listen and are heard. According to Buber, the ultimate sacred space is that between a person and God. In Buddhism, this can be the experience of our inherent Buddha Nature – the primordial wisdom and purity that exists in all of us at all times, but which we forget as we go through life and start to build defenses against being spontaneously present with ourselves and others.

Only by understanding that we are all in the same boat we call human life can we listen and be heard, with empathy and openness. Instead, we often view those with whom we relate as totally separate from us. We do so to protect ourselves from being seen, or to satisfy some agenda. Buber calls such an interaction “I and It” rather than I and Thou.

The experience of I and Thou can only be sustained when we are fully open and mindful, noticing when we shut down and protect ourselves or when we stop listening to another. Seeing when we shut down can be instructive. It can show us where we are stuck in not wanting to be close and intimate with others. By understanding the triggers that cause us to shut down and protect ourselves, we can develop compassion for ourselves and others and be fully being present with others, without an agenda or guardedness.

I have always found it interesting that the words “heard” and “heart” are so similar. Our wounded hearts can be healed by the mutual experience of listening with our whole body, heart and mind and being heard. We can then experience the sacred space of I and Thou between us.  As Zen Buddhist teacher Joan Halifax has said:

Listening means that we have stabilized our minds so completely thatthe person who is speaking can actually hear themselves through our stillness. It is a quality of radiant listening, of luminous listening, of vibrant listening, but it is also very still. It is listening with attention, with openheartedness, without prejudice. We listen with our being. We offer our whole listening body.[1]

 

______________________

[1] Joan Halifax, in Gifts of the Spirit, by Philip Zaleski & Paul Kaufman (1997).

 

© 2017 Beth S. Patterson, MA, LPC. All rights reserved.

MAKING FRIENDS WITH PAIN AND OVERCOMING SUFFERING

You may have read the title of this article and thought to yourself, “Why would I want to make friends with pain? I’ll do anything to avoid it!” Paradoxically, it is only through acknowledging and going through the pain of our suffering that we can then work with it, overcome it, and achieve happiness. As the Dalai Lama has said,

We have to relate the Four Noble Truths to our own experience as individual human beings. It is a fact – a natural fact of life – that each one of us has an innate desire to seek happiness and to overcome suffering. (The Dalai Lama)[i]

The Four Noble Truths that the Buddha taught provide a universal framework for the practice of Buddhism. This small book can be viewed in the context of this basic teaching of the Buddha after he gained enlightenment under the Bodhi Tree in India.

The First Noble Truth is that life is suffering. Until we find a way out of our own unhappiness through our individual path toward healing and growth and our spiritual practice, we are stuck in the endless cycle of samsara. Like a hamster on a wheel, humans tend to do the same things over and over, and wonder why we’re not getting anywhere and staying miserable.

The Second Noble Truth describes the cause of our suffering, that is, our attachment to our thoughts, our possessions, our negative beliefs and emotions, and above all, our clinging to a solid sense of self.  It is difficult to let go of these attachments. They become habitual patterns. We mindlessly perpetuate these patterns, wondering why things never change. Both psychotherapy and Buddhism provide tools in this regard to help us mindfully disengage from our negative habits and tendencies.

The Third Noble Truth teaches that our suffering can actually cease through our letting go of our belief in a solid self and coming to understand on an experiential level that all phenomena are empty of a solid self and are impermanent, always changing if we stop long enough to notice. This is so difficult for us humans. It is so hard to let go of our habitual tendencies and our thoughts. Enlightenment, “lightening up,” is possible, however, through practicing on our path with patience, discipline, diligence and above all, compassion and gentleness.

The Fourth Noble Truth describes the path that leads to the cessation of suffering. The yearning to let go of the habits that cause our suffering is universal. Sometimes, we use unhealthy means in our attempt to escape suffering. We find, however, that there is no escape from doing the work if we want to heal. We have to lean into our pain and go through the suffering to get to the other side.

Only through leaning into and experiencing our pain can we transform our suffering and develop compassion, true understanding, healing and growth.

 

[i]Dalai Lama, H.H. (1997). The Four Noble Truths. London: Thorsens.

THE MYTH OF PERFECTION: A BUDDHIST PERSPECTIVE

Many of the clients in my psychotherapy practice come to see me for depression and anxiety caused by self-criticism and negative self-talk. I have discovered that these clients are caught in the trap of perfectionism. Perfectionism has been defined in psychology (Stoeber & Childs 2010) as “a personality disposition characterized by an individual striving for flawlessness and setting excessively high performance standards, accompanied by overly critical self-evaluations and concerns regarding others’ evaluations.”

From a Buddhist perspective, perfectionism is kept in place by an attachment to the “self” as a separate, unique and real entity. In addition, forgetting that we are human beings living in samsara (the endless cycle of birth, old age, sickness and death and its attendant suffering) further solidifies perfectionism.

Human beings in the “human realm” of samsara all experience anger or aversion, jealousy, grasping, ignorance or lack of understanding and pride – known in Buddhism as the “five poisons.” Those with perfectionistic tendencies forget this, and believe that they are uniquely deficient when they experience these afflictions. Some feel so much shame, or have such a strong need for others’ approval that they try to hide behind a mask of perfectionism – covering up mistakes rather than owning up to and learning from them, overindulging in food, drugs or sex to numb the pain, giving in to others’ needs rather than expressing their own.

Instead of trying to deny or hide imperfections, acknowledging them mindfully can lessen perfectionism’s control. The first step is to mindfully notice your thoughts of self-judgment. The goal is to acknowledge those thoughts as soon as they arise and then let them go, dispassionately and without judgment. It takes a lot of practice not to get caught in the web of those thoughts.

One important tool in overcoming perfectionism or other dysfunctional tendencies is to recognize where you feel the associated feelings in your body. For example, if you experience jealousy, you might feel a hot, tight sensation in your chest. Exploring the sensation further, you discover that it would be red if it had a color, oval if it had a shape, and about two inches long if it had a size. Precisely describing the bodily feeling, as in the above example, is very effective in recognizing and letting go of self-critical thoughts as soon as they arise.

Then, breathe into that physical place with compassion, instead of immediately trying to avoid the feeling. You can’t turn it off like turning off the radio, and the more you try, the more intense it becomes. In the vernacular of the ‘70s human potential movement, “what you resist persists.” As you breathe out, breathe out light and space.

Continuing to breathe in and out in this way leads naturally to the Buddhist practice of tonglen, or sending and receiving – taking in the heavy, dark negative feelings, and sending out light, spacious healing feelings. This practice is first done for oneself, and then extended to all beings who suffer from perfectionism’s grip.

The benefits of this practice to counteract perfectionism are many and powerful. First is the engendering of compassion for oneself and one’s human foibles. Extending this compassion out to all who are suffering from perfectionism leads naturally to knowing that you are not alone, separate and distinct from all others.

We are perfect in our imperfection. Acknowledging and leaning into our imperfections with compassion and without judgment leads to tenderness and openness. As Leonard Cohen sang, “There’s a crack in everything. That’s where the light gets in.”

Psychotherapy and the Middle Way

When I hear the clients in my psychotherapy and grief counseling practice talk in black and white terms, or view their options in terms of extremes, I am reminded of the Buddhist concept of the Middle Way. When the Buddha was asked how one should meditate, he responded “not too tight, not too loose.” He analogized this to a string instrument, like a lute: If the strings of the lute are too tight, they will break, and if the strings of the lute are too loose, they won’t play.

So it is as we live our lives and navigate its changes. Ideally, we strive to find a middle way where the “strings” of our life can resonate. However, due to anxiety, we may get wound up to the breaking point, where there is no give and take, no spaciousness to allow things to be. On the other hand, we may be so downtrodden with depression that our “strings” are too loose — we just don’t have the emotional energy to tighten them enough to play.

The Middle Way can be likened to living in the space of ambiguity — which is truly the condition of life. Because of our emotional histories, living in ambiguity can be fraught with difficulties. In our anxiety, we frantically fill the spaces in our lives with doing, rather than being. Yet, possibilities for growth and renewal can only arise if we are able to rest in that unknown space. If we can take a breath and rest in that space, called “the gap” in Buddhism, we see that it truly is spacious, vibrant, alive and full of possibility.

Similarly, our emotional wounds sometimes prevent us from seeing the complex nature of the people in our lives, including ourselves. At its extreme, we see them as all good or all bad, known as “splitting.” In fact, sometimes the same person is seen as all good one minute, all bad the next. A goal for people in therapy with this type of issue is to be able to see the shades of gray — people, including the client, are neither all good nor all bad. Many people with this tendency are perfectionists, with resultant depression, eating disorders, self-injury and other issues. For these clients, having a safe experience that it is OK not to be perfect (and that perfection is in fact impossible for human beings) leads to self-compassion, and compassion for others. Their emotional “strings” can then be loosened enough to let themselves — and others — be, allowing for the possibility of joy, satisfaction and intimacy in their lives.

The Middle Way approach is also helpful in my work as a grief counselor. People who are struggling with their grief sometimes ask me “when will I feel better, and when will I ‘get over it’”? Some go the “too loose” extreme, numbing the pain of grief with drugs or alcohol, or jumping into a new relationship. Others go to the “too tight” extreme, idealizing and idolizing their deceased loved ones, or holding on tightly to their pain for fear that letting go will mean forgetting their loved ones. Finding that Middle Way, where the bereaved can safely feel and express their pain and go through their own personal journey of grief, without having a map, but the compass of the grief counselor, is a key component to growing and healing in grief.

Caring for Tibetan Buddhists at the End of Life

Many people in the baby boomer generation, who were raised in the Jewish and Christian faiths, have turned to Tibetan Buddhism and other Eastern religions.  As this generation ages and enters hospice care, it will be important for health care providers to understand their unique needs at this sacred time in their lives.

Broadly speaking, Buddhist practice emphasizes a deep understanding of the mind, the importance of karma (cause and effect) and preparing for death.  For Buddhist practitioners, the moment of death is considered the most important moment of life.  Developing a calm and aware mind, acting virtuously for the benefit of other beings and abandoning harmful actions are the most important practices for preparing for death.  If the Buddhist practitioner is able to stay relatively aware at the time of death, he or she can be reborn in what is called a “Pure Land” and continue on the path toward enlightenment.

The most important practice for Tibetan Buddhists and those supporting them at the end of their lives is called “Phowa”, or transference of consciousness.  Phowa is aimed at assisting practitioners to be reborn in a Pure Land, where the cycle of suffering, or samsara, ceases.

An important concept in Tibetan Buddhism is the concept of the “bardo”, which means “in-between.”  Every moment can be considered a bardo, or a transition to the next moment.  In fact, our present life is a bardo between what came before and what will happen next.  The bardo between this life and the next is called the “bardo of becoming” and is traditionally considered to be forty-nine days. It is a time of self-review and purification of negative acts, in order to be reborn if not in a Pure Land, then at least as a human being who has the potential of attaining enlightenment. It is said to be a very vivid and at times intense and frightening experience, and the practitioner’s spiritual community, or sangha, traditionally practices at the end of each week to assist the deceased’s journey through the bardo. The dying process is seen as a separation of the mind from the body, and it is the mind that continues into the bardo between this life and the next.  Therefore it is important for the mind to be clear and calm at the time of death.  It is said that whatever thought one dies with is the one that will return most powerfully when one reawakens in the bardo. Traditionally, it is said that it takes 72 hours for the mind to completely separate from the body and begin the journey into the bardo between this life and the next.

As death nears, clinicians and others should refrain from touching the body, especially the feet, because doing so may direct the patient’s consciousness downward to rebirth in a lower realm, where he or she cannot benefit others and have the potential for enlightenment.  The patient may wish to be in the traditional posture of dying, lying on the right side in the posture of the “sleeping lion”, which is the posture in which Buddha died.

In developing a plan of care for Tibetan Buddhist practitioners, the hospice team and other caregivers need to consider the patient’s views on suffering, alertness and karma.  The following are some considerations in developing a plan of care for dying Tibetan Buddhist practitioners:

1.  Determine if the patient has a spiritual teacher (or guru) and the patient’s wishes for contact with the guru, and how to contact him or her.

2.  Determine if the patient has a community of fellow practitioners (the sangha), and if so, how to contact them.

3.  Provide a quiet space for sangha members to come and sit with the patient to meditate or do Phowa practice.

4.  Help the patient arrange an altar with pictures of the guru and other pictures that are important to the patient for his/her practice, as well as any meditation tapes, prayer beads, etc.

5.  Clarify issues and wishes regarding the use of pain medications.  Many practitioners may believe that the use of pain medications may unduly cloud their minds, but unrelieved physical pain may do the same.  As with all patients, this is a balancing act.

6.  For the social worker and bereavement coordinator, understand any family dynamics issues — there may be unfinished business or at least conflicting feelings if the patient was raised in a different faith.  The chaplain, in doing his/her spiritual assessment may want to do a “spiritual ecomap”, which is like a genogram, which is useful for families who practice multiple faiths.  This will be more and more important as the baby boomer generation continues to age.

7.   It is also important to facilitate discussions with family members about the patient’s wishes for end of life and at the time of death.  Educate family members on the need for a calm and peaceful environment, and let them know that if they are too outwardly emotional, they may be asked to leave the room.

8.  Clarify after-death wishes.  Does the patient want the body to stay untouched for 72 hours in order for the mind to separate and enter the bardo?   Sangha members and others may come to be with the body during that time to recite prayers and read from the Tibetan Book of the Dead. If on the other hand, the patient wants to donate his or her organs, that is totally acceptable, and most Buddhist teachers say it is a great way to generate good Karma. Cremation is traditional, but confirm wishes, and if they want to be cremated, and determine if they want a ceremony or viewing.

9.  Bereavement support may also need to be modified — grieving sangha members may not want bereavement support in the first 49 days after the death, so that they can turn inward to help their fellow sangha member’s journey in the bardo.  With respect to non-Buddhist family members, listen for and validate any feelings they may have in regard to their loved one’s Buddhist practice.

References

Smith-Stoner, M. (2006).  Phowa:  End of Life Ritual Prayers for Tibetan Buddhists. Journal of Hospice and Palliative Nursing, Vol. 8, No. 6.

Sogyal Rinpoche (1994). The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. San Francisco:  Harper San Francisco.

Mind the Gap: Living in the Space Between Loss and Healing

One of the most difficult phases in any life transition is the space of the unknown between a loss or change, and healing or new beginning.  All life changes, even positive ones, entail a sense of loss or grief.  For example, there is a sense of loss in giving up addictive behaviors like cigarette smoking, despite the fact that the change is a positive one.  Even the change of getting a better job or promotion entails loss — you might be giving up security, relationships and the comfort of the known in making such a change.  The most difficult changes involve the death of a loved one or death of a relationship.

Our lives are always in transition.  Every breath we take involves a transition, from inhaling to exhaling, to the gap or space before the next inhalation.     After the end of a phase in our lives, we have a tendency to jump into something (or someone) new, because that space of the unknown can be so uncomfortable.  William Bridges (1980) calls this space the “neutral zone.” As Bridges explains (p. 112), “one of the difficulties of being in transition in the modern world is that we have lost our appreciation for this gap in the continuity of existence.  For us, emptiness represents only the absence of something.  So, when the something is as important as relatedness and purpose and reality, we try to find ways of replacing those missing elements as quickly as possible.”

Resting in the space of the neutral zone — feeling the pain of our loss, exploring our options, getting to know ourselves on a deeper level — is the key to transformation and growth.   How can we sit in that space of the unknown that feels anything but neutral, without giving in to the impulse to do something?  The first step is to be rather than do, which sounds much easier than it is, until we develop some friendliness toward ourselves and our anxiety.  Notice the impulse, and instead of acting on it, explore it with curiosity:  Where do you feel it in your body?  What is it telling you?  Breathe into it and let it be without having to change it in any way.

Mindfulness meditation, especially mindful breathing, is very helpful in learning how to be in the gap or neutral zone:  Feel the cool air entering your nostrils on the in-breath.  Pause and then feel the warm air leaving your nostrils on the out-breath.  Notice in particular how the out-breath dissolves and experience the space before your next in-breath.

Journaling can also be helpful in navigating the neutral zone.  Journaling helps us get those swirling emotions out of our bodies and head in a way that is workable and spacious.  We can gain some perspective on the stages of our journey — a major function of the neutral zone, and get to appreciate that time as a time for renewal.

Finding a regular time and place to be alone is also helpful in the neutral zone.  The period after a loss is a natural time to turn inward. This time of year, the barren stillness of winter, is also a natural time to turn inward.  Experience the loss of summer’s richness and the loss of the autumn leaves.  Know the gap before spring comes again as a time for renewal.  Without death, there can be no rebirth.

The Christian mystics call this gap and time of turning inward the “dark night of the soul.” It is a time to allow ourselves to feel the pain and despair that is a universal part of the human condition in the face of loss and change.  We may feel bereft and spiritually arid, and it is necessary to feel those feelings in order to transform them.  Despair can be seen as the manure from which spiritual growth and personal transformation arise.  As Michael Washburn so beautifully says in the aptly titled article The Paradox of Finding One’s Way by Losing It (1996), “It is only in the depths of despair that genuine spiritual life is found.  It is a paradox that we sometimes have to lose our way in order to find our true self.  We sometimes have to die to the world and to our worldly self before we can discover that our deepest and truest self was within us all the time.”

REFERENCES

Bridges, W. (1980). Transitions:  Making Sense of Life’s Changes. Cambridge, MA:  Perseus Books.

Washburn, M. (1996).  The Paradox of Finding One’s Way by Losing It:  The Dark Night of the Soul and the Emergence of Faith.  In Sacred Sorrows, Nelson, J.E and Nelson, A., eds. New York:  G. Putnam’s Sons.

A Buddhist Approach to Grief Counseling

Grief theorists, in keeping with Western culture’s emphasis on autonomy and individuation as signposts of psychological health, have long held that disengaging from the deceased is necessary for the successful resolution of grief (Marwit & Klass, 1995).   For example, according to the psychoanalytic view of Freud (1917), grief work entails decathecting, or detaching libidinal energy from the deceased.  Furthermore, the attachment theory of Bowlby (1969) posits that the bereaved individual attempts to maintain a bond to the deceased until he or she realizes the impossibility of doing so, and eventually “lets go” of his or her relationship to the deceased.

The predominant beliefs in the importance of disengaging and letting go in resolving grief have been gradually giving way to the concept that continued attachment to the deceased loved one is a healthy and necessary task of the grief process (Silverman & Klass, 1996).  The work of Worden (1981, 1992, 2002) can be seen as a bridge between the majority view of theorists beginning with Freud and the more contemporary view of the importance of continuing bonds. Worden originally described one of the major tasks of mourning as “withdrawing emotional energy from the deceased and reinvesting it in another relationship” (1981, p. 13), in keeping with the goal of decathexis described by Freud.  Significantly, in subsequent editions of his work (1992, 2002), Worden acknowledged that the bereaved do not in actuality decathect from the deceased.  Accordingly, Worden now describes this task as “emotionally relocating the deceased and moving on with life” and suggests that finding a place for the deceased in the life of the bereaved “will enable the mourner to be connected with the deceased but in a way that will not preclude him or her from going on with life” (2002, p. 35).

My approach to grief counseling is strength-based and solution focused.  Narrative therapy, a relatively new model of cognitive therapy (Carr, 1998), is in accord with this focus.  Narrative therapy has been found to be useful for helping clients access continued attachment and spiritual beliefs about death as a means of making meaning and finding the strength to emotionally relocate the deceased and move on with life.

Grief as a Holistic and Spiritual Process

Worden (2002) has identified four tasks of grief: (1) to accept the reality of the loss; (2) to work through the pain of grief; (3) to adjust to an environment without the deceased; and (4) to emotionally relocate the deceased and move on with life.   Worden’s formulation recognizes that grief impacts the bereaved in the physical, behavioral, cognitive, emotional and spiritual domains (Worden, 2002; Attig 1996).  Similarly, Marrone (1995) has identified the following phases in the grief process:  (1) cognitive restructuring, in which the bereaved reorganizes and restructures his or her thoughts and concepts to assimilate a loss; (2) emotional expression of the experience of the loss; (3) psychological reintegration of new coping behaviors and cognitive strategies for adjusting to life without the deceased; and (4) psychospiritual transformation, “which involves a profound, growth-oriented spiritual/existential transformation that fundamentally changes our central assumptions, beliefs and attitudes about life, death, love, compassion or God” (p. 498).

The fourth phase or task identified by both Worden (2002) and Marrone (1995) as described above provides the ground for working to transform and maintain the bereaved’s relationship with the deceased loved one.  As observed by Silverman and Klass (1996), “we need to consider bereavement as a cognitive as well as emotional process that takes place in a social context of which the deceased is a part….People are changed by the experience; they do not get over it, and part of the change is a transformed but continuing relationship with the deceased” (p. 19).  Cognitive interventions are useful for accessing and working with this transformative process, and as discussed below, narrative therapy provides a powerful cognitive container for the transformative work of grief.

Spiritual belief in continued attachment as a source of strength.

Whereas Freud and his followers may have seen continued attachment to the deceased as a form of pathological grief, the experience of continued bonds to the deceased is now viewed as a strength, resource and form of resiliency in the normal grief process (Benore & Park, 2004; Angell, Dennis & Dumain,1998).    Coping with loss has been called “a spiritual process that includes locating our {loved ones] in time and place, and transporting our recreated ‘experiences’ to the here-and-now” (Angell, Dennis & Dumain, 1998, p. 618).  Benore and Park (2004) have found that religious and spiritual beliefs in an afterlife and continued attachment to the deceased enable one to adapt more easily to the death of a loved one:

“The bereaved who strongly believe in [continued attachment] do not need to reconcile a loss of the person, but rather a change in the relationship.  Beliefs that the deceased person and the resulting relationship continue may eliminate the        most distressing aspects of death, whereas those who do not believe in [continued  attachment] must deal with the difficult issues of permanent loss, the void in their life and relationship network, and the sense of isolation (p. 12).

Grief and Spiritual Transformation

As one gets in touch on a deep level with his or her own suffering and resiliency in the face of that suffering, he or she can begin to get a panoramic view of the human condition and tap into his or her spiritual strength. Religious and spiritual beliefs have been observed to be one way in which individuals create meaning and a sense of order and purpose to the human condition, life and death, as well as creating an ongoing relationship with the deceased (Golsworthy & Coyne, 1999; Calhoun & Tedeschi 2000). “Because religious beliefs are central to many people’s global meaning systems, and because death is a central arena for the enactment of religious beliefs, these beliefs are likely to be a central part of the process of coping and adjustment following bereavement for many people” including beliefs in continued attachment to the deceased (Benore & Park, 2004, p.4).

The strength-based approach I use with my grieving clients, through the use of techniques of narrative and solution-focused therapy, is informed by my Buddhist practice.  In particular, I come to each session with my clients with the ground that each human being possesses inherent wisdom, or Buddha Nature, and that this wisdom can be called upon to access the individual’s strengths and resilience in times of suffering.  As Levine (1982) notes, grief fully experienced allows us to “plumb the depths” of our souls and to “touch something essential in [our] being….[W]hat is often called tragedy holds the seeds of grace” (pp. 85-86). Those “seeds of grace” are the basic goodness or Buddha Nature possessed by all, and it is my job as collaborator or partner in the journey of grief to support my clients in getting in touch with the strengths that they possess but which may be obscured by the intensity of their feelings of helplessness and loss.  Through narrative therapy, including the use of literary and other creative forms of expression, clients are able to create some space around that intensity, which in turn gives them some perspective and hope for change and transformation.

The broader perspective that can be reached through narrative therapy techniques can put the client in touch with both the uniqueness and universality of grief and suffering.  Paradoxically, contemplating the universal truth of suffering can open us to acceptance and peace.  As His Holiness the Dalai Lama (1998) observes, “if we can transform our attitude towards suffering, adopt an attitude that allows us greater tolerance of it, then this can do much to help counteract feelings of mental unhappiness, dissatisfaction, and discontent” (p. 140).  The Dalai Lama (1998) suggests that the most effective practice to help one tolerate suffering is to contemplate and understand that “suffering is the underlying nature” of existence as human beings:  “If your basic outlook accepts that suffering is a natural part of your existence, this will undoubtedly make you more tolerant towards the adversities of life” (pp. 141-142). Through allowing ourselves to experience and express our suffering, we can see that there is a way out of that suffering, through working with it as a fact of life, and finding a meaningful way to grow, transforming hopelessness into hope and possibility.  Narrative and solution-focused therapy can foster the realization that grief is not necessarily pathological, but an integral component of the human condition.  Through experiencing our own unique grief, we can tap into its universality, lessening our hopelessness and isolation, and deepening our connection with others and the human condition.  This is the transpersonal and transformative work of healing grief.

References

Angell, G.B., Dennis, B.G. & Dumain, L.E. (1998). Spirituality, resilience and narrative:  Coping with parental death.  Families in Society:  The Journal of Contemporary Human Services, 615-629.

Attig, T.  (1996).  How we grieve: Relearning the world. New York:  Oxford University Press.

Benore, E.R. and Park, C. L. (2004).  Death specific religious beliefs and bereavement:  Belief in an afterlife and continued attachment.  The International Journal for the Psychology of Religion 14(1), 1-22.

Bowlby, J. (1969). Attachment and loss: Attachment (vol. 1). New York:  Basic Books.

Calhoun, L.G. & Tedeschi, R.G. (2000). Posttraumatic growth: The positive lessons of loss. In Neimeyer, R.A. (Ed.), Meaning reconstruction and the experience of loss (pp. 157-172). Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association.

Carr, A. (1998). Michael White’s narrative therapy.  Contemporary Family Therapy, 20(4), 485-503.

Dalai Lama, H.H. & Cutler, H. (1998). The art of happiness:  A handbook for living.

New York:  Riverhead Books.

Freud, S. (1917). Mourning and melancholia. Standard edition of the complete works of Sigmund Freud (vol. 14). London:  Hogarth Press.

Golsworthy, R. & Coyle, A. (1999). Spiritual beliefs and the search for meaning among older adults following partner loss.  Mortality, 4(1), 21-39.]

Klass, D. (1993). The inner representation of the dead child and the worldviews of bereaved parents. Omega, 26(4), 255-272.

Levine, S.  (1982). Who dies? An investigation of conscious living and conscious dying. Garden City, NY:  Anchor Press.

Marrone, R. (1999). Dying, mourning, and spirituality: A psychological perspective. Death Studies, 23, 495-519.

Marwit, S. & Klass, D. (1995).  Grief and the role of the inner representation of the deceased. Omega, 30(4), 283-296.

Silverman, P.R. & Klass, D. (1996).  What’s the problem? In Klass, D., Silverman, P.R. & Nickman, S.L. (Eds.), Continuing bonds:  New understandings of grief (pp. 3-27). Philadelphia: Taylor & Francis.

Worden, J.W. (2002, 1992, 1981). Grief counseling and grief therapy:  A handbook for the mental health practitioner. New York:  Springer Publishing Company, Inc.