Small ways to manage our sadness
IN YOUR column (March 19) you advised ‘Pamela’ — who had written to you because she was full of grief at being estranged from her adult twins and therefore not knowing their children, even though she has other children and grandchildren.
You warned her about ruining the life she has because of this sadness — and suggested she buy a locket in which she keeps the names of her whole family, estranged and not.
I loved this and would like to hear of some more ‘small, symbolic actions’ (as you call them) to help us all accept the reality of sadness in our lives.
READErS might be thinking ‘This isn’t a problem!’; on the other hand, we have no idea what might have made that locket idea resonate with you, or why you seek more advice on small rituals or symbolic acts that can help us come to terms with pain.
Victorian mourning jewellery served such a purpose, and so does the Jewish tradition of lighting a Yarzheit candle on the anniversary of a loved one’s death to honour treasured memory.
Similar moments of calm contemplation can be consoling and beautiful.
From time to time, I suggest the writing and destroying of a letter as a means of laying anger (with the living or the dead) to rest.
Once I had a sad email from a lady in Devon racked by guilt and confusion over the recent death of the mother who had never been kind to her.
I suggested she write everything out in a long missive, sealed into an envelope, then ride on her bike to a beautiful spot, taking a box of matches with the letter in her pocket — and sit and think, before burning the letter and scattering its ashes on the breeze.
I was so pleased to hear back. She had done exactly as I advised — and now felt something bad and sad had been laid to rest.
Another little trick can help you to ‘let go’. It’s a positive ritual based on a technique called the Sedona method.
Take a piece of paper and write down the thing that’s eating away at you — something remembered or a gripe that makes you angry/ jealous/very sad. Something really bothersome. Then crumple up the paper and clench it tight, holding it out, fist downwards.
Now you have to ask yourself a series of questions. 1. Can I let this go? Gripped so very tightly, the answer is no. 2. Could I let this go? The answer is obviously yes, I could, because the paper is not super-glued to your palm. Acknowledging that, you unclench a little . . . 3. Would I let it go? Turn and open your hand and look at a stupid piece of paper with words on it. Go on — say, ‘Yes I would’. 4. So the fourth question is: when? You’re in control. Think about that fact. Say aloud, Now!
Then let the screwed-up problem drop to the floor, before chucking in the bin or on the fire. You’ll be amazed how this simple ritual can lighten — and enlighten. Why not give it a go?