This morning when ordering a take-away coffee, I ask the barista how he is doing? With a big beaming smile, he shares that last night he proposed to his girlfriend.
Touched by the beauty of his delight, instantly my eyes fill with tears. We laugh at my response and unperturbed he goes on to tell me the details of the proposal, as well as his desire to marry with all of his family present, including his elderly grandfather.
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This morning amongst the morning rush at the local café, I sit down at a table next to an elderly gentleman. Perhaps it is the twinkle in his eye or maybe his gentle presence that invites the engagement….whatever it is, within moments, we find ourselves holding hands and through his faltering voice, I learn that this gentleman is at the cafe celebrating his 97th birthday.
His adult granddaughter attending to paying the bill and organizing a taxi to accompany her grandfather home, the gentleman and I stay together for a couple of minutes sharing each other’s presence.
The joy and sweetness of the moment pronounced, I become aware of the grief and sadness gripping at my heart within.
I work hard to stay present to our shared experience.
After a while the gentleman is helped to standing by other members of the public, and as he leaves, we hold hands one last time.
Watching him as he shuffles towards the door, outside, I see the yellow taxi that will take him away. I feel big full tears rolling down my cheeks.
My father died over a year ago, yet the grief still overcomes me when I least expect it.
Through my tears, I notice a group of older women nearby, who had witnessed this moment. One of them reaches out to comfort me, and in response I ask in her experience does grief ever pass? She shares the question with her friends…
One recounts how just yesterday, 29 years on, she found herself filled with tears of loss of her mother. Another talks about the transformation of grief to sweet memories of joy. And a further lady speaks to the passage of time being a part of the process of healing, yet acknowledges how she is still triggered to grief in unexpected moments, such as this scene today. All agree on the need to express their grief and allow it to have its place.
Knowing there is truth in all, I thank them for their wise counsel and for sharing this moment with me.
Sitting in the café, I cry at the beauty of humanity.
I allow my grief to flow.
I remember my father.
And I invite you, to allow a place, for the grief in your life….
If however, you find you are struggling to make sense of your grief, or loss is affecting your life beyond a way that you live with, seeking the support of a professional can help.
(Trained as a whole-body focussing oriented therapist, Sarah Sacks is an experienced counsellor, who specialises in working in supporting people through periods of transition, especially around issues of grief and loss.)
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It all began when I started boarding school. I was 12 years old, a long way from the comfort of the farm, in a big city. On the first day, through the blur of tear stained eyes, I said goodbye to my family, and from that moment on, found myself having to navigate the world on my own. In colours it felt as if my life had moved from vibrant green to lifeless grey. I was terribly homesick and felt incredibly alone. The rules of the time, dictated that children and parents were to have limited contact, so that the children could ‘learn to manage’. Consequently at least for the first term, there were no phone calls, no visits and certainly no trips home. Apart from a couple of photos, a few well loved items, and my name sewed onto all of my belongings, I didn’t have much around me to remind me of who I was or where I belonged.
And so the writing began. Once a week on a Sunday, I would sit down at my desk and write to the family. Trying to sound cheerful, my letters became a place to share, my new world of experiences. Equally in return, I would receive weekly letters from my mother and as often my father, telling me the news of the farm, my brothers and how proud they were of me. Sometimes there might be a sprig of blossom from the garden or a newspaper clipping about the local footy team, tucked into the envelope too. All were equally treasured.
Letters became a place of heart-to-heart connection, and as such writing became a place for me to find who I was and where I belonged.
It is only now that I grasp the enormity of the joy and pain of the authentic voice on the page, that comes from this childhood longing to be loved and to be held, that runs deep through my stories told.
And so it is often the way, that not until I sit and write that I realize what is stirring inside of me.
Born from childhood experience, writing has become a place for deep exploration, articulation and sharing of experience.
Think back to your early years, what did you do to help yourself make sense of your experiences and to channel your energy? Was it imaginary play, music, construction, dance, sport or artistic expression…whatever it was, I invite you to consider making space for this part of yourself in your day-to-day life, and just see what springs forth…you may be amazed at the resource that lies within.
(Sarah Sacks works from The Grove Counselling & Therapy in St Kilda East. Often in her work she invites her clients to explore the use of reflective practices, as a tool to assist in their journey towards healing.)
If this content interests you and you would like to receive regular updates of developments at The Grove, please leave your details in the "Subscribe" box to your right.
Originally I came to meditation through yoga. After many years of a very physical yoga practice, I found my home practice had become less and less active. Allowing my body to guide me, at home on the mat, I no longer sought physical expression, but experienced a deep desire to sit. Sitting in the unknowing, meditation became me.
It was in this sitting, that I came in contact with a deep unidentified grief. Whilst incredibly painful, it was only in this sitting in the grief, that I began to experience glimpses of the potential for opening beyond the pain. During this time, I continued to regularly attend yoga class and at home listened to my body, allowing myself to sit in mediation or to reflect in my journal. This period was transformative, resulting in me opening to a new path in my life.
Many years on, as I reflect on this experience and other pivotal moments in my life, I note what has sustained me. Consistently it has been a blend of physical expression and reflection. Noting that without one the other loses strength.
Whatever the form, our exercise and reflective practices take, I sincerely believe that it is only in being in contact with our physical being, that we can find the strength to be.
Reflection - what do you do to support your capacity to find both stillness and expansion in your life?
(As a therapist trained in holistic counselling, Sarah Sacks supports her clients to use meditation and reflective practice techniques in their therapy)
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Long after the children had gone to bed, I came home last night to learn that our youngest had asked the question “Dad…is the Tooth Fairy real?”
Three kids on, between us we’ve been asked this question many times and dodged it, in so many ways. But this time, my husband confessed he couldn’t turn away from her direct and insistent gaze.
In his recounting of the story, I learn there were tears from her around the relief in finally knowing the truth, especially as she was being teased at school for still “believing”. Combined with tears of confusion as it dawned another enormous step toward leaving her childhood behind.
Our youngest is 10 very soon. We live in a first world country, where everyone is busy. I was busy that night. For the children and the parents alike, there are places to be, classes to attend, meetings to be had. But at what cost?
Taking the time to slow things down and acknowledge for both ourselves and our children that transition is occurring is critical to everyone’s wellbeing.
For everyone change is hard. It is a time of moving from the known to the unknown. And with that comes fear. Fear of will I be enough to cope? Who will I become? Will be alone in this new world? Will someone be there to help me when I struggle in this new place? These fears, often exhibited as anxiety, are as true for a child as they are for an adult.
When change is occurring for a child and you recognize how scary and unfamiliar it is for them, how it is hard it is to say goodbye to what they have known, that there will be times that they will wish they could go back to the past, and that through all of it, you will be there for them – is one of the best gifts we can give our children.
The key here is time. It takes time to offer someone who is fearful or in pain the space to slow down, feel safe and experience.
Sometimes as parents our child’s pain is more than we can bear, at others we may feel some guidance may be necessary. In these instances, professionals experienced in working with children can help.
Finally take a moment and think about how you navigate change and what you do to address your fears and anxieties during transitions. As parents it is these moments of modeling, combined with the times of being with our children as they try to navigate their own struggles, that will largely define our children’s capacity to tolerate change. For you and your children, slow down and take time to be with both your and their experiences. You are giving your child a gift.
I wasn’t there yesterday when the big question was asked and the truth revealed, but today I met our daughter at the school bus, so that we could spend the afternoon together. On our walk home, she tells me about her chapped lips and that the best lip balm is “the one Santa gave me…I mean you gave me”. We talk about how it makes her cry to think of Santa and the Tooth Fairy not being real. And I am quietly thinking how it makes me cry, seeing our littlest growing up. It is a transition for all of us, that we all have to navigate. Holding each other along the way.
(Sarah Sacks is a counsellor and an advocate for enabling growth through transitions. She practices at The Grove Counselling & Therapy, St Kilda East.)
If this content interests you and you would like to receive regular updates of developments at The Grove, please leave your details in the "Subscribe" box to your right.
Contorted in the pain of the past
Two people sit across from one another
As they come into relationship
The crackling static of two separate beings
Lessens
Finding safety in the shared space in between
The muffled voice of the body begins to stir
Emotions arise
Insight and understanding springs forth
The physical ache of history
Returns to its past
Breath in ….
Breath out …
The sweetness of the present moment experienced
(A strong believer in our body-wisdom, Sarah Sacks is a qualified Wholebody Focusing Therapist, based in St Kilda, Melbourne)
If you are interested in engaging with this work, book into the upcoming Wholebody Focusing workshop - July 25th & 26th
and
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It is Wednesday. Again it is Group.
There has been a fortnight break since the last.
I notice the dread arising in me as I drive towards the city.
I would happily not attend.
In the dark of the winter’s night, I am propelled forward.
I step inside the room, I notice my heart racing.
Small talk and niceties past, group begins.
As others speak, the limelight is not on me, yet my heart continues to pound.
Someone notices my discomfort. I am asked if I would like to contribute.
Wondering inside if I sound like an idiot, I share a little piece of my life.
Others respond.
I feel judged and fearful of their sharing.
A silent rupture in relationship occurs. I feel lost and isolated in my experience.
Anxiety reigns.
Others re-clarify their response and I realize that my own anxiety, defined what I had heard.
Their anger was not my father’s, projected at a small child.
It was their own experience.
That is theirs, and this is mine.
That was then, this is now.
I am safe.
The anxiety lessens.
My body softens.
The Group ends.
Once more, I am meeting my anxiety.
Reflection: “How does your anxiety define what you experience?” “How do you understand that pattern has come to be in your life?”
(Sarah Sacks is a trained group psychotherapist and avid believer in the potency of Group Therapy)
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Last week I drove 400klms to sit with a very dear friend’s father. I sensed the end of his life was possibly close and I wanted to be with him, one last time.
I entered the room and there he lay, propped up on the bed amongst lovingly knitted bed covers and carefully placed pillows. His breath rattling, his eyes drooping, he was a shadow of the wiry farmer I had known. Despite having not seen him for over a year, there was no hesitation in me, as I made myself comfortable sitting on his bed and reaching for his hand.
As we held hands I felt the power of life in his faltering yet strong grip. Words could not be formed, nor did it feel they would find meaning. Instead skin-to-skin contact offered all we needed…an affirmation of our existence.
A week later, the community gathers, the sun shines, the birds sing, as he is buried in a country cemetery.
Men shake hands, women hug and children clasp to their parent’s legs.
Many cups of tea and stories told the wake comes to an end.
I hold his daughter, my dear friend tight, our cheeks pressed firmly up against one another, as we say goodbye. We live far apart. We may not see each other for another 6 months, but hold each other as if our bodies will remember one another, long beyond this moment of embrace.
As I drive home along a country road in the golden glow of the late afternoon light, I ponder the role my body plays in making sense of my own and other’s existence.
Like a watermark, the imprint of the other stays in us long after they are gone.
I walk into the kitchen, and hug my husband and my children deeply.
Reflection - I invite you to consider the power of presence in physical touch...how it moulds us, how it enriches us, and without it, how it depletes us. Ponder what imprint you are leaving on the world, and how others have left an imprint on you?
(Trained as a whole-body focussing oriented therapist, Sarah is an experienced counsellor, who invites her clients to find healing and transformation, through the wisdom of the body.)
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This morning was a significant day for our youngest. Her fish had died, and she wanted to ceremonially bury it. A small box was found, a hole dug, flowers picked and a cross made. As she went to lay her fish’s coffin in the dirt, she looked around, and noticed that her siblings, caught up in the preparations for the day, had not made it out to the garden. “I want them here with me” were her words.
Letting go of the rush of the morning, we gathered around in the garden … her two older siblings, the family dog, my husband and I, as she placed her beloved fish in the ground.
It is these moments that bind us and these moments that build us - seeing others and allowing ourselves to be seen.
Reflection - In your life, who do you witness? And do you open yourself up to the vulnerability and the love that can come, in allowing others to witness you?
(Sarah is an experienced counsellor, who enjoys working with children and their families around issues of grief and loss)
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