May You Find Your Rabbit
Sometimes we spend decades building a mansion. Something we think we want. Something that is perfect, a dream. And we want it so much that we put up with many falsehoods and bury them into the walls, and go on building this palace built on walls of lies. Sometimes it all comes crashing down, destroyed by a natural calamity. And we are devastated. And we must get up, wipe away our tears and build again. We don't have the time, strength or resources to build that palace again, so we build a hut, and we realize this hut is built on bare truths. And it is more authentic. Not what we wanted, but good for us. It allows us to be ourselves. Sometimes there is a difference between what we want and what is good for us.
Contemplating loss, grief and starting anew, I am reminded of a beautiful children's book. As we overcome devastating loss, what helps the most are the people who listen to our silences, who cheer us on while we are sprawled on the ground and who lend us a hand when we are ready to rebuild. I have been fortunate to have such people in my life. And I hope I am also able to hold the space for others when they need me.
I highly recommend the insightful, poignant story "The Rabbit Listened" by Cori Doerrfeld, about how to help someone who had faced a loss. The importance of reflection and time for the grieving, and the importance of the supportive friend to listen and being mindfully present is brought out beautifully in this book. That supportive friend is the Rabbit in the story, and I am glad for the Rabbits in my life!