I kept my eye on the clock. I was having coffee with Lisa Toole in South Berwick and didn't want to be late. As I drove past the house that I lived in my twenties I thought to myself, "what goes around, comes around." South Berwick is a small town with deep roots that attracts young families to come and stay awhile. Families like Lisa's have rooted for generations while their stories continue to weave in and out of one another's and create a beautiful dance of chaos and determination. I stepped into Lisa's house and immediately felt at ease and comforted by her warm tones, thoughtful organization, and beautiful accents. It felt as though I was in Carol Loubier's home, one of the first Reiki Masters on the Seacoast in the early nineties. Even though we'd be dancing with grief over coffee, it felt as though my spirits lifted and subtle weights that I'd been carrying with me melted away without coaxing.
Some stories have a start and a finish. They travel along in a straight line and are easy to follow, clean in their composition. The most interesting stories often don't have a beginning and their story lines become entangled with events, emotions, and experiences that intersect at the most unexpected places making its roadmap nearly impossible to follow and irresistible at the same time. Grief has a way of complicating the most organized lives. Its powerful tendrils dig up old patterns and unresolved feelings from the past and bring them to the light of day demanding that they be made right. I sat at Lisa's kitchen counter and tried to only listen but her rich vocabulary and deep well of experiences were like a cacophony of alarms reminding me I have my own dance of grief, forgiveness, and atonement to attend. At times I placed my hands beneath me on the chair cushion to keep myself at bay, while I listened to how she has struggled with familiar obstacles and unexpected outcomes in order to keep the peace and also stay true to who she is as a creative amongst logical thinkers. Life likes to throw us curve balls and Lisa has found herself improvising, not reacting when they land in her lap. That's what she does, she rolls up her sleeves, acknowledges she doesn't know what the fuck she is doing, and somehow turns adversity into gold. This is her gift, dancing with darkness to find a way to extract the light.
Death is a constant in the equation of life, yet somehow we manage to file it away as though it will never come to ourselves or the people we love. Death and dying takes a back seat to no one and demands our full attention and active presence. If it calls our name, we are left speechless and frozen in its steel jaws. If we are brave, strong, and thoughtful we will muster the courage to step forward and extend our hands to its grace. Lisa is doing this dance, finding a place for gratitude while she begins to grieve for loved ones not yet passed. This dance is consuming her, asking her to prioritize her days and actions, and demanding she places people and things she loves to the side for awhile. Nobody is taught how to grieve, how to prepare for death, and more importantly how to act in its presence. Some find their way through trial and error while others remain frozen, despondent and unable to act in a way that moves everyone forward. Lisa knows fear but also how to walk through it and as she continues to wake each day and face new obstacles, old wounds, she realizes that dancing with grief and dying is one of the greatest gifts to be given, a gift you hate to love. Lisa apologized for not being centered, for feeling as though she was bit of a wile e coyote in my mind's eye. I simple shook my head gently. I saw a composed, caring, and compassionate women wanting to be and do better in a story that brings most of us to our knees.
I asked her what nuggets of gold she'd like to offer others dancing with grief and dying. I urged her to offer them up in the simplest of terms for us all to grasp hold of and help us to be better prepared. These are her words, taken in verbatim.
1. ask for help as much as you need it.
2. embrace curiosity fully.
3. everything returns to love one way or another.
4. embrace the SUCK!
5. you know you're growing if you feel unmoored.
6. it's okay to be afraid and fearless at the same time.
7. you can still take action with a broken heart.
8. you can love fully and still feel complicated emotions.
9. love is messy.
10. trust the people that know how to love you, you will need them.
11. how else could I be finding my tribe?
12. making something beautiful out of something deeply painful is alchemy.
Lisa is a practioner of Bowenwork in South Berwick, Maine.
Lisa Toole, CPBP/AI
Bowenwork Therapist/Associate Instructor
Office: (603)591-0658
Email: [email protected]
Clinic: www.bowenworkforfascialhealth.com
Office: South Berwick, Maine
Introduction to Bowenwork - Beginner Class
Certified: www.americanbowen.academy