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Low Bandwidth Version
continued
from Part II
Divorce
and Loss
by
Kathleen Wall Ph.D.
& Gary Ferguson
Embracing
Loss
When
performed on a regular basis, the disidentification
exercise will help you come to know an endurable,
unshakable self inside, one with the power to fashion
new worlds out of ash and rubble. The fact that such an
exercise can keep you from being consumed by your
emotions doesn't mean that it could, or should, keep you
from fully acknowledging the pain that's come on the
heels of your separation.
Divorce
throws a harsh, glaring light on a great many crumbled
dreams, on plans that were once bright and full of
promise but that now lay shattered and abandoned. While
you can't spend all your time dwelling on these losses,
you can't ignore them, even though facing them may hurt.
This kind of recognition and acceptance always is
painful, even for people enthusiastic about ending their
relationship.
In order
to work through this pain, you may find it helpful to
honor your loss through a special ceremony. (Note that
when we say honor, we're talking about feeling
the depth of the loss without letting anger get loose
and take you somewhere else. This doesn't mean
repressing your anger. Look at it directly. Tell it that
you understand it has a valid reason for being there.
Then move on to the calmer, somewhat more detached place
lying underneath.)
Lillian,
a forty -five-year-old Denver attorney, arranged to use
an out-of-town friend's apartment for an evening
ceremony, thereby removing herself from her day-to-day
environment. When she arrived at her friend's the night
of the ritual, the first thing Lillian did was unplug
the phones and then sit quietly for fifteen minutes to
focus on why she was there. Afterward, she wrote on
separate slips of paper a brief description of each hope
and dream she felt had died with the end of her
marriage. She thought of the country house that she and
her husband intended to build, of the Christmases that
were to be spent with grandchildren, of the trip
overseas she and her husband were going to take now that
their two daughters were off to college. "That
evening brought the tears out of me like nothing else
had", she admitted later.
Next,
Lillian built a small fire in the fireplace,
thoughtfully and purposefully placing each piece of
kindling and each log, slowing down whenever she felt
she was starting to hurry. When the fire was burning
well, she proceeded to feed each slip of paper into the
flames, one at a time, acknowledging aloud that she was
letting go of that particular dream. When the last piece
of paper disappeared in the flames, she sat in front of
the fire and watched until it burned out completely,
honoring the emptiness, the quiet space that lies
between a former state of being and the one yet to come.
Afterward, she dressed in an outfit she'd purchased
earlier for the occasion and went out for an elegant, if
somewhat melancholy, dinner with her best friend.
You can
create a release ceremony with a special object that
symbolizes your loss. Some people burn or bury treasured
photographs, marriage certificates, even wedding rings,
not as an act of anger but of release. Others prefer to
place their notes or objects in a special bag or box
that, for the time being, can be stored in their home
until they decide what to do with it. The very act of
closing that box or bag and putting it far away from
your everyday life is a powerful symbolic gesture of
your intent to reposition this pain, to reduce its
prominence. Again, such ritual actions and symbols mean
little by themselves. But held within the context of a
sincere desire to enact change, they are potent indeed.
This article has been
excerpted with permission from the book "Rites of Passage"
published by Beyond Words Publishing, Hillsboro, OR 97124-9808.
800-284-9673. http://www.beyondword.com.
Info/Order book
About The
Author
KATHLEEN WALL practices
psychology "with soul," providing helpful transition
consulting for individuals and organizations. She serves on the faculty
at the Institute of Transpersonal Psychology, has a private practice in
San Jose, California, and is a counselor at San Jose State University.
GARY FERGUSON has been a
free-lance writer for sixteen years. His science and nature articles
have appeared in more than a hundred national magazines. He is also the
author of numerous books. He and his wife make their home in Red Lodge,
Montana.
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