One Giant Grief Journey Called Life
We have experienced one global crisis after another, and it seems there is no end.
The loss of lives from COVID-19 has shown us how vulnerable we are. It has brought upon grief in huge waves all at once. Grief from the loss of loved ones, the separation from our loved ones, and the loss of our way of life as we knew it before the pandemic. But COVID-19 is only one of many challenges the world is dealing with.
While we are transitioning from covid pandemic to endemic, we continue to be faced with serious existential challenges. An increasing mental health crisis contributing to spikes in substance use and addiction, with opioid-related overdose deaths having reached over 100,000.00 annually for the first time. The alienation of humans by technology with connections made on media platforms instead of in real-life venues. The loss of time spent in nature, our essential tank for recharging our soul batteries and bodies. Increasing socio-economic splits and racial disparities, deepened by divisive politics. Planet Earth is under threat with extinctions announced at a dizzying pace, the melting of glaciers, and the alarming increase in natural catastrophes such as aggressive wild fires in my home state California, communities that allow for invasions of corporate-run cannabis businesses that profit from the heavy use of their young customers. And communities faced with increasing rates of death by fentanyl poisoning, one of the worst drug crimes in recent history — one that my son was a victim of — among many other beautiful, young people, who did not know that their purchased pill contained fentanyl. As if those problems don’t challenge us enough, we are now witnessing a war in Europe, the invasion of Ukraine.
Losses abound. Realities too painful and difficult to digest with no end in sight. People in Afghanistan confronted with a barbaric regime with laws in the name of religion but against human rights and dignity. A country rich in history, culture, and rituals, and the land of the mystic poet Rumi, now traumatized and in deep shock, with little hope for peaceful resolutions, but instead, a path of darkness and fear ahead. I cannot fathom the range of such threats. Tragedy on such a large scale, while observed from afar, leaves an imprint on my psyche, stirring my soul, making me feel helpless. I recall the 10-year anniversary of 9-11 last year, when I found myself joining in the global sadness and remembering the confusion and disbelief that struck me at the time of the event.
My son’s passing has made me only more vulnerable to the suffering of others, knowing that their hearts are broken, too. And only together can we move forward, giving each other courage and kindness.
Witnessing such heartbreaking human suffering while Earth is on a tipping point, I am tapping into my deeper realms and searching for what can hold me while the world around me tumbles. Juggling grief with all its ripples, the question arises, “What is this life of mine about? What will sustain me and make my life meaningful, and, ultimately, giving me a purpose?
This inquiry ignites a deeply held longing which wants to be seen and expressed. What I am asked for is moral courage. I want to make a difference, and I feel inspired to become part of helping society heal from trauma and turn away a culture heavily dependent on substances, drugs, and consuming. Our youth deserves better than that. My vision is for a healthier, more capable and engaged generation, with today’s kids growing up to become part of a world that offers healthy solutions to our problems. The Iceland Model, a prevention project that implemented the prevention of substance use by Iceland’s youth, brings much hope. Based on their success, drug prevention is possible when communities at large work together. Stepping into my son’s legacy, honoring his life and struggles, I want to become part of such solutions for a healthier culture in Marin County and beyond.
My vision is big, my ideas keep flowing, and, ultimately, I am going to find myself merging with like-minded souls. It is impossible to do it alone, as English metaphysical poet John Donne states with the title of his book, No Man is An Island.
Navigating my own grief while in the thick of the world’s grief, it seems as though life is moving me forward onto this quest for renewal and new possibilities.
May this giant grief journey lead me, and all of us, toward rich and fertile new lands. As environmental activist Joanna Macy writes, “You don’t need to do everything. Do what calls your heart; effective action comes from love. It is unstoppable, and it is enough.”
Revised & Updated: 02/26/2022
Written: September 2021
