It’s taken me a few weeks to begin to process things, but as someone far more eloquent than I once put it, “I won’t lie to you”, December was in many ways an awful month.
It began with the sudden death of our family dog, Bobbie. As well as being an integral part of our family, Bobbie was also the school dog, providing love, affection, and I think, a sense of safety for countless staff as well as students over the years.
As if this weren’t enough, on Boxing Day we received news about the sudden and unexpected death that day of my wife’s brother, Jon. Now, I won’t claim to have been close to Jon, and so his death hasn’t affected me in the same deep, visceral way in which it has those who have been closest to him. At the same time however, I, like most everyone else in such circumstances, have been faced with the challenge of how to make sense of unexpected, close, personal loss.
There are plenty of experts out there who can explain the process of grief and grieving. They might describe a series of stages through which we pass, arriving at a point at which our loss is bearable, and life is able to go on. For me, not willing to draw upon the consolation many others may find in a belief in an afterlife in which we’re reunited with our deceased loved ones, an initial phase of the process involved a struggle to find the point in anything. If death means death, and if with the passing of time we’re all ultimately forgotten, and finally, the light of the Universe itself is extinguished, then really, what is the point. It sounds gloomy and depressing, I know, but that for a short while was the place in which I found myself. Fortunately, it’s not a place in which I had to reside for too long.
For me, the meaning of life lies in the stories we tell ourselves, the stories we choose to believe. For some it’s the story of suffering in this life leading to a form of salvation in the next. For others it might be the story of sacrifice in the name of some “greater good”, such as the nation state. So, what’s the story that I choose to believe in?
Well, after almost 60 years, though it honestly feels a lot less than that, for me it boils down to one simple question;
“Where’s the joy in my life, right now?”
While it sounds trite, though it absolutely isn’t, I’ve come to the realisation that there’s joy available in virtually every moment of life. That’s not to diminish the times when our pain and suffering are all too real, when we need to acknowledge and be with it. Rather it’s to refocus on the beauty and the experience of connection that’s always available, be it with other people, or our environment. And it doesn’t mean an acceptance of injustice or unfairness, an acceptance of the status quo. Indeed, searching for and identifying the joy to be had, strengthens us for the challenge of change. It equips us with the energy and clarity to engage positively with supporting others and with making the most of the potential that lies within ourselves. Making the most of life, and supporting others to do the same, experiencing the joy that’s open to us here and now, that’s what makes life so wonderful and precious.
Now, if you ask anyone who is close to me, they’ll tell you that I regularly fall short in remembering the search for joy. I get grumpy, short tempered, overwhelmed, and convinced that the Universe is somehow conspiring against me. I’ll be limited by a sense that I’ll never get to grips with this, or that in some way, I’m not good enough, or don’t know enough. But hey, who said it would be easy? All I know, is that in honour of Bobbie and Jon, and in honour of life itself I’ll continue as best I can to look for the joy that’s available to me here and now. I’ll continue to endeavour to live and work according to my fundamental beliefs and values. Beliefs and values that commit me to actively and positively engage with life, and to support others to do the same, both in my personal relationships and through my coaching, training and therapeutic work.
David
