1. What do we pass on to our children?

    February 15, 2014 by Juliette Clancy

    It is only through becoming aware of our patterns of behaviour can we change what, so often, is passed down unconsciously from generation to generation as expressed beautifully by Dawna Markova.

    I will not die an unlived life.
    I will not live in fear
    of falling or catching, fire.
    I choose to inhabit my days,
    to allow my living to open me
    to make me less afraid,
    more accessible,
    to loosen my heart
    until it becomes a wing,
    a torch, a promise.
    I choose to risk my significance;
    To live so that which came to me as seed
    goes to the next as blossom
    and that which came to me
    as blossom goes on as fruit.


  2. The Gift Of Self Love

    December 21, 2013 by Juliette Clancy

    On the day you were born there was a powerful celebration. All the angels and guides surrounded your sweet new soul brought into this body. Together they gifted you with treasures to carry you through your life’s journey.

    One angel presented you with the gift of laughter so that lyrical delight would ring out from you. Another brought the gift of breath so that you could whisper wondrous words of support and breathe in all the delicious aromas and scents of this world. One guide gifted you with respect so that you could bring this into your relationships with all things and beings and have it mirrored back onto you. One angel shared the gift of fierceness, knowing you would need it at times to stand your ground.

    On and on, one by one, the angels and guides stepped forward and showered you with gift after gift. Your little body glowed with the essence of them all; grace, vulnerability, wonder, passion, silliness, acceptance, joy, flexibility, determination, peace, resiliency, and insight. On and on into the first night of your little life they came, one after another, to be certain that you would be bestowed with all the unique gifts you would need to bless this world you were entering.

    They knew of your greatness. They knew of your promise. They awaited your arrival and the celebration had begun. Together they gathered to cherish you and to honor the being you were and would become.

    The final angel stepped forward and gave the very last gift they had brought. It was the gift of self-love. And it was said, “May she always use this gift wisely and generously, it is the spark that ignites the power of all the other gifts. It is the fire that will fuel them. It is the softness that will allow them to expand. It is the strength that will support them in times of need. This last gift is where the seeds of her true beauty will grow and flourish.”

    Lisa Meade


  3. Why Hope Is The Last To Leave Pandora’s Box

    December 20, 2013 by Juliette Clancy

    ‘Give Sorrow Words . . .

     

    “Give Sorrow Words, the Grief that does not speak knits up the o’er wrought heart and bids it break”

    William Shakespeare

    “We have a saying among those who work in the world of bereavement; “The longer the driveway – the shorter the funeral.”  What do we mean by this?  There is a growing trend in America, starting with the upper socioeconomic classes and filtering down to the less wealthy – funeral services are becoming unpopular.  Take the case of Mary Martin, the actress who played Peter Pan in the film by the same name.  After her death, her wealthy family decided not to have a funeral, and in fact, nobody came to pick up her ashes at the mortuary.  Another form of this trend is not to call it a funeral but rather a “celebration” of the person’s life.

    I think that this trend is well intended because we are trying to ease the suffering of those who mourn at a funeral.  But we must be careful about unknowingly robbing the bereaved of the public support we give them by recognizing and validating their grief.  When I make this point, people often remind me of the Irish.  They say that we should be more like them and have a party.  But what is little known is that the wake, or a party as we Americans describe it, is done after a two-day vigil of sitting with the deceased’s body.  After that, it is indeed time to have a party.  More importantly, the Irish sit with their grief.  They make no excuses for it.

    Not to give sorrow words is to diminish our loss and to give the implicit message that those who are mourning are not able to suffer hearing what it means to lose someone dear.  To give sorrow words means that it is not so terrible that we cannot give it a name.  By naming it, we are able to get a bit of distance from it and look at it.  This is how we humans heal; we are able to get a perspective and decide what it means to us.  Most importantly, by acknowledging that we can stay with our pain, we are attesting to the indomitability of our human spirits.  Alice Miller, a writer, said it best “For the human spirit is virtually indestructible, and its ability to rise from the ashes remains as long as the body draws breath.”

    I do believe there is a time to celebrate a person’s life as well as the mourning of his or her death.  However, if we focus only on celebrating the person’s life, are we unknowingly excluding the necessary mourning that needs to be worked through so we can eventually come to some sort of acceptance of our loss?  Without understanding our pain it becomes senseless suffering.   When someone we love dies it causes many assumptions we have made to come into question.  The fabric of security we have woven into our lives may feel torn.  We can have thoughts and feelings that cause distress.  Yet these same thoughts and feelings invite us to see who we are because they can tell us a great deal about ourselves.

    This is what the Greek myth of Pandora’s Box is illustrating.  Like Pandora when she opened the box, when we look inside ourselves, we can unleash some things we dread, but we can also free the sustaining virtue of Hope. It is interesting that Hope, what the Greeks described as “a brightly winged creature,” is in the same box with the other creatures that come flying out – War, Illness, Pestilence, and many other painful experiences.  Hope is the last to leave the box and is often left out of the story.  And what gets ignored is a most important message  – Hope is the last to come out because she cannot be freed until we have looked beneath our pain.  Hope invites us on a journey that is both feared and desired.  It is the journey of self-discovery.  It is feared because such a journey means realizing the way we have assumed the world and ourselves to be is not holding up.  It is desired because it promises a more fully human life, a life that extends and deepens what it means to be you”.

    Penn Barbosa


  4. As I prepare to facilitate my ‘Grief’ workshop this article by Sobonfu Some explains perfectly the importance of grieving.

    October 21, 2013 by Juliette Clancy

    Surrendering to your sorrow has the power to heal the deepest of wounds

    For many people grief is an option. Looking at my own life, I realized it is a matter of life and death. In fact, throughout my life, grief has been an important theme from crying for food as a child to dealing with deep pain of losses as I grow older. My earliest memory of deep grieving was when I was a little girl, about 5 or 6-years old. One of my playmates died. I was so shocked and confused by the whole business especially when I am told I would never see him in a physical form again. I grieved for a long time and it just wouldn’t stick in my head that my friend had died. Every day I would try to go with the hope to play with him, but he wasn’t there. My community would gently say to me “do you remember that he died?,” and they supported me and grieved with me. Although I grieved for a long time, over a year, it was accepted as a normal part of life. I was never asked, “Aren’t you finished grieving yet?” Rather, they would say – “have you grieved enough? Have you cried enough?”

    For my people, the Dagara tribe of Burkina Faso in West Africa, we see that in life it is necessary to grieve those things that no longer serve us and let them go. When I grieve I am surrounded by family reassuring me that the grieving is worthwhile and I can grieve as much as I want. We experience conflicts, loved ones die or suffer, dreams never manifest, illnesses occur, relationships break up, and there are unexpected natural disasters. It is so important to have ways to release those pains to keep clearing ourselves. Hanging on to old pain just makes it grow until it smothers our creativity, our joy, and our ability to connect with others. It may even kill us. Often my community uses grief rituals to heal wounds and open us to spirit’s call.

    I thought this perspective on grief was natural for everyone until I came to the U.S. I was with a friend who was having a conflict with her family and I knew the situation was not easy for her. But one day I heard her alone in the bathroom crying! I said, through the door, “Are you OK?” She said, “Yes, I’m fine!” I said to myself, “Oh my god, something is not right here.” The people who were supposed to support her were not there. I felt conflicted and wondered what would my grandmother do in this situation?

    I was in my late teens when my grandmother died. I was overcome with so much devastating grief I was unable to release it. I was stuck in feeling of anger, betrayal and even rage. I wondered, how could my grandmother do this to me? Everyone was grieving around me. Though I could not join them they made a space for me. Everyone took turns caring for each other as they broke down. Luckily, the seventy-two hours of usual grieving time were stretched beyond five days. When everyone was finished, I still had much to grieve, and people were still there for me. Though I began my grieving late I never felt dissatisfaction from those around me. It is natural that people around you start to grieve when you do. We know that when you have pain it’s not a personal pain, it is a pain of the whole group. We experience a collective sharing, so that an individual doesn’t need to bear all the weight of the suffering.

    Many years later, while in the U.S., I had a relationship crisis. I felt like I was dying. I realized that I was feeling lonely in my grief as my soul, heart and mind continuously collided. I was not used to giving an intellectual explanation to my grief. I found much relief in various communities here and when I got home and everyone joined me in the grieving all of a sudden, I felt lighter.

    There is a price in not expressing one’s grief. Imagine if you never washed your clothes or showered. The toxins that your body produces just from everyday living would build up and get really stinky. That is how it is with emotional and spiritual toxins too. What we must remember is that, the more these toxins rise the more we have a tendency to blame or hurt others around us. People never harm others out of joy, they give pain to others because they too are hurt or in pain.

    There can be so much grief that we grow numb from the unfelt and unexpressed emotions that we carry in our bodies. Unexpressed hurt and pain injures our souls, and can be linked directly to our general sense of spiritual drought and emotional confusion, not to mention the many illnesses we experience in our lives. Many of us suffer from medical conditions that are grief-related. Grieving, whether in private or in community, has many scientifically proven health benefits, from lowering blood pressure and risks of heart attacks to simply having a better quality of life.

    We need to begin to see grief not as foreign entity and not as an alien to be held down or caged up, but as a natural process. As the recipient of someone’s grief we also must understand that it is OK for someone to express pain.

    In today’s world, most of us carry grief and do not even know it. We have been trained at a very young age how not to feel. In the West we are often taught that to be good girls and boys we have to “suck it up.” The consequences are that even with your most intimate and trustworthy friends you might feel like, “I am burdening them.” Crying in front of others is too often a forbidden fruit. We learn to compartmentalize our grief because expressing it in an unwelcoming place will only lead to more grief. We are taught that the people who are closest to us have no way of holding us when we fall apart.

    Yet we are born fully knowing how to grieve. We cry naturally to feel better, to unburden ourselves and take a few pounds off our shoulders and souls.

    If there is a way for everyone to grieve openly, I believe it will also diminish the blaming and shaming that goes on between the races. When you are in the presence of someone grieving you don’t see color anymore, it is a universal language. We are all in pain. There is no need to blame others. Blame, shame, and guilt come from being unable to express our grief properly. How can we pretend to be happy, peaceful and loving when we have so much pain and grief?

    I believe the future of our world depends greatly on the manner in which we handle our grief. Positive expressions of our grief are healing. However, the lack of expression of our grief or its improper release is what is at the root of the general unhappiness and depression that people feel, all of which lead to war and crimes.

    There are things we can do in society to help heal. We can begin by accepting our own and each other’s grief. We can have grief rooms and shrines in public spaces where people can go to grieve. I have seen this happen in different communities in the United States and it worked for them. Churches can have rooms for people to grieve. One of my dreams is to turn places where there have been great and repetitious crimes into grief shrines where people can go to mourn. I imagine Memorial Day not as a day of barbecue, but a day to allow us to deal with our daily frictions, losses and grief as a community.

    Communal grieving offers something that we cannot get when we grieve by ourselves. Through validation, acknowledgement and witnessing, communal grieving allows us to experience a level of healing that is deeply and profoundly freeing. Each of us has a basic human right to that genuine love, happiness and freedom.


  5. Perhaps this poem is similar to the journey taken in therapy?

    October 17, 2013 by Juliette Clancy

    ‘Go Deeper’? By Joyce Rupp

    The persistent voice of midlife ?wooed and wailed, wept and whined, ?nagged like an insistent lover, ?promised a guide to protect me? as I turned intently toward my soul.

    As I stood at the door of ‘Go Deeper’ ?I heard the ego’s howl of resistance, ?felt the shivers of my false security, ?but knew there could be no other way.? Inward I travelled, down, down, down, ?drawn further into the truth ?than I ever intended to go.

    As I moved far and deep and long ?eerie things long lain hidden ?jeered at me with shadowy voices ?while love I’d never envisioned?wrapped compassionate ribbons ?‘round my fearful, anxious heart.

    Further in I sank, to the depths,? past all my arrogance and confusion, ?through all my questions and doubts, ?beyond all I held to be fact.

    Finally I stood before a new door: ?the Hall of Oneness and Freedom.?Uncertain and wary, I slowly opened? discovering a space of welcoming light.

    I entered the sacred inner room? where everything sings of Mystery. ?No longer could I deny or resist ?the decay of clenching control? and the silent gasps of surrender.

    There in that sacred place of Self,? love of a lasting kind came forth, ?embracing me like a long beloved one ?come home for the first time.

    Much that I thought to be ‘me’? crept to the corners and died.? In its place a being named  ‘Peace?’ slipped beside and softly spoke my name?’Welcome home, True Self, ?I’ve been waiting for you’.


  6. Today I was reminded of the Ho’oponopono

    October 13, 2013 by Juliette Clancy

    I found a wonderful explanation of this Hawaiian Forgiveness Ritual written by Ulrich E. Dupree.

    Powerful yet concise, this guide summarizes the Hawaiian ritual of forgiveness and offers methods for immediately creating positive effects in everyday life. Exploring the concept that everyone is deeply connected—despite feelings of singularity and separation—four tenets are disclosed for creating peace with oneself and others: I am sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. Thank you. 

    This simple four-step system encourages readers to focus on difficult conflicts within personal relationships and heal the past. By addressing these issues, owning one’s feelings, and accepting unconditional love, unhealthy situations can transform into favorable experiences.

    The Core of the Ho‘oponopono: The Four Magic Sentences 

    Together we will apply the four magic sentences of the Ho‘oponopono in small exercises  to solve problems and conflicts. If something troubles you, if some thing sends prickles up your spine and you would like to turn around and walk away, and above all, if someone ‘presses your buttons’, always direct your thoughts to the following sentences:

    I am sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. Thank you. 
    These four sentences work like a sort of mantra or magic formula; they are like a meditation. They operate through time and space, beyond cause and effect, and transmit directly to your Higher Self, your sub- conscious and your waking consciousness. After a short while you achieve inner peace, and change from disharmony to harmony. You move yourself from separation to union while you say:

    I am sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. Thank you. 

    What do these four sentences mean?

    I am sorry 
    I apologize. I perceive that I suffer, and that connects me to my feelings. I no longer reject the problem, but recognize my learning task. I, or my forebears (through whom I am connected energetically, genetically and by tradition as much as by history) have caused harm. Now, through the power of the spoken word, I am freed of this guilt.

    Please forgive me 
    Please forgive me for having, through myself, or my forebears, consciously or unconsciously disturbed you and me in the course of our evolution. Please forgive me for having acted contrary to the divine laws of harmony and love. Please forgive me for having, until now, judged you (or the situation), and in the past dis- regarded our spiritual identity and connectedness.

    I love you 
    I love you and I love myself. I see and respect the divine in you. I love and accept the situation just as it is. I love the problem that has come to me to open my eyes. I love you and myself unconditionally with all our weaknesses and faults.

    Thank you
    Thank you, for I understand that the miracle is already underway. I thank God and the angels for the transformation of my request. I give thanks, because what I have received and what will come to pass is what I have deserved through the law of cause and effect. I give thanks because, through the power of forgiveness, I am now freed from the energetic chains of the past. I give thanks that I may recognize and join with the Source of all Being.

    I wonder how your life will be different practicing this ritual?


  7. A Lifetime

    August 5, 2013 by Juliette Clancy

    In memory of a young woman I did not know, but who wrote this stunning piece. – Elizabeth Blue may you rest in peace.

    I want,
    To quote Rumi.
    I want to say one thousand words of thanks.
    I want
    To throw
    One million rose petals in the air.
    I want
    To kiss the sky.
    I want God to know that I am grateful
    I want to be humbled by the sheer knowledge of what is.
    I want to blow into one million pieces, and dedicate myself to the world.
    I want to say thank you,
    And mean it.
    I want to tell the world,
    The universe,
    That my Indian lover is
    The sky
    The moon
    And the sea.
    I want you to know that beauty is everlasting,
    And that I am only a temporary placement of outer beauty.
    I want you to know that the beauty inside me is everlasting.
    And I want you to know that I did not create this.
    And,
    I created some.
    I want you to know that eternity is forever, and then more.
    I want you to know that ‘me’ is just a figure of speech.
    I want you to know that I love you.
    And that life,
    Today,
    Was one of those days worth living.


  8. This Process of Ageing

    July 24, 2013 by Juliette Clancy

    A beautifully written piece by Christiana Pelmas on ageing which deeply resonated with me.

    I am getting older. Of course, this is true for everyone, but it has arrived for me like an insistent house guest, and I find myself its ambivalent host. For a while, cruising through my late thirties and into my mid-forties, it felt like I was actually getting younger. Each year filled with a sense of youthfulness and discovery. I felt like an innocent, testing out the deep waters after decades of playing in the shallow end. And then it happened. Like something lifted and the reality of my chronology became apparent to me. I realised I am at the door of my Queen years. My own parents gone, and my children now young men preparing to head out into the world on their own, I feel my purpose and my position in the larger lineage of my life shifting radically. I look at babies and feel the grandmother of me tickling at my heart. It feels like such an organic transpiration. I’m definitely ready. But what has become apparent to me here is that there is no turning back. That’s always true for all of us, but up to a certain point, we are not oriented to this awareness. We aren’t supposed to be. Here, it has occurred to me that I am closer to my death than I am to my birth. That the ground beneath me is shifting in exactly the appropriate ways based on this immutable fact. But here, there is so much I don’t know. In the absence of knowing, I miss my mother deeply. Who are my guides?

    Aleah Chapin’s award-winning portrait of a life-long friend, “In her, I see the personification of strength through an unguarded and accepting presence.”

    Without making a conscious decision to do so, about five years ago I began seeking out women elders. I stopped studying with men and began fervently seeking the grandmothers. I went to pray with the 13 Indigenous Grandmothers. I spent a torrentially rainy autumn week with Joanna Macy. Each time I sat almost motionless, watching every movement, every impulse, every breath of these gorgeous old ladies! What were they doing? How were they doing it? What was moving them? What are they afraid of? What are they now fearless about? In my daily life, I am hungrily drawn to the distinct energy of the elder women all around me who are navigating this terrain. Immersing myself in this deceptively deep though heartbreakingly stealth stream, it feels like I’m hydrating a parched patch of my own land. Land that has been condemned as uninhabitable by my culture.

    We live in a culture which is terrified of age, a culture nearly devoid of significantly present and respected female elders – who are owning their elder hood. I look around to find that too many of my elder sisters have learned how to play this game – staying one step ahead of the fierce but beautiful ageing process with chemicals, surgery and clothing that doesn’t honour the shape and needs of our ageing bodies. Imagining there is some new-world nobility in learning how to navigate this maze of externally dictated (and unnatural) expectations for how we should look, basing our worth on our ability to stay youthfully appealing, sometimes I feel like I’m walking among traitors. Here my heart breaks as I watch too many of my elder sisters avoiding – at all costs – the possibility that we would own our age and our wisdom and become intimidating to the uninitiated. That perhaps now is when we are meant to stop caring whether we are found attractive by other humans, allowing ourselves to answer to something much greater, like the final question – did we lead relevant lives as fierce lovers and servants of this world? Did we hone our skills as love makers, body and soul, in this lifetime, finding an ever-bolder beautifully unapologetic expression of our gratitude and longing? And did we trust that here, in this place, we would become the most beautiful version of ourselves?

    What do the real bodies and faces of women look like who are fierce lovers and servants of this world? What does it look like to embrace that with each new level of wisdom comes a new wrinkle, an ache in our bones, a necessary slowing down and a deeper conversation with Death?

    Recently I noticed the pictures of me don’t align with my image of myself. That I’m still imagining the me of my early forties. I looked at a photograph the Earthquake Man just took of me in the desert and didn’t recognise myself. I wanted to turn away. I said, “That photograph scares me. I see an old woman.” He said, without any response other than a perfunctory one, “Hmm. That’s not what I see. I see a beautiful woman.” I am determined not to make an enemy of my age. It comes with deep grief. How could I ever say I’m done with this world, ready to depart it’s cottonwoods and finches, the sweet breath of my children and their children, the sunsets and autumn’s last strawberries? Well, it’s perfect that I end with that, because autumn’s last strawberries have the most complex flavour, filled with the innocence of spring and sharpened with the warning of first frosts and the last-gasp-give-it-everything-you’ve-got burst of no-going-back.

    I know, at 47 I’m a long way from this moment. But I crossed a threshold recently, realising that my job as a woman is shifting. My definition of beauty being refined and deepened and the need for my sense-of-self to answer to a much greater reflection of my own worth and purpose. I am afraid here, finding my way by looking within and back as much as I continue to look forward.