by Christine Nichols
Can there be joy in sorrow and grief?
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I like the idea of an “apprenticeship” with sorrow. But what happens when sorrow hits early and unexpectedly?
I remember clearly holding my sorrow in check, so I would not cause any more distress in my family life. I went underground and made no demands. I hid what I really felt to keep my father from crying. The bomb that had gone off in the middle of my family was my mother’s death when I was six years old.
But my tears and emotions could not be suppressed forever, and eventually manifested as depression and shame that I carried deep within me. It made me vulnerable to other peoples’ grief and sorrow, and I became the ‘one who cared’ for many broken souls.
I remember clearly my first cancer diagnosis at age 57. How could I express my fear, anger, anxiety, sadness and distress?
When I came to my first Callanish retreat in April 2004, I could not hold back my tears. They were encouraged to come out and so they kept flowing and flowing. Learning to be with my grief and owning it was a new experience for me, an opening into caring for my own heart and soul, perhaps for the first time. This learning has provided a pathway into joy.
This reverence for my own suffering is what I would have loved to have had growing up. At the time, I could not comprehend what was happening to me, and I could not let myself fall.
Christine Nichols came to Canada for a year or two of adventure. Fifty four years later she still enjoys her summer days kayaking on the ocean, and her winter days on the mountains-- a tribute to beautiful Vancouver. When cancer entered her world eighteen years ago, she was so fortunate to hear about Callanish and has been a regular participant ever since (“a Callanish lifer" as some old-timers call it). The supportive community, the many life affirming circles, the kindness and the caring of others have carried her through her recurrence last year, full of gratitude and humility for all her fellow travellers.