These are profoundly intense times. There is not a soul I know whose life is not somehow being touched by change, loss, death or ending. It's crucible moments at the macro level, the collective dark night of the soul. How to fare in these moments that can feel so overwhelming that all the impulse to do is shy away, dive into the phone, hide, run, deny? It's so poignantly understandable the desire to veer away from that which simply signals pain, but it would be a missed opportunity. For those moments require the paradoxical reflex of the Emergency Services, namely run towards that which spells anguish, dive head first into that which heralds grief.

Why? Why engage in this sort of ostensible masochism? Why, because that is where the grace resides, in that darkness there is learning and an evolution of the soul and mind that can't be googled, tik-toked or tweeted. It's profound life changing work, lonely, individual and solitary. Not easy chat over text, but fundamental existential sense making, who am I, and what does this mean to me?

This labour of learning is critical to truly maturing and living a life of meaning rather than ephemera. Technology today is so superficial, a mild perpetual anaesthesia that takes the edge off existing, coaxes us away from anything that could sting let alone shape our essence. Lures of YouTube videos that promise enlightenment in a 4 minute video, or a Tik Tok that promises to encapsulate centuries of Buddhist wisdom. What the short term gratification of life today fundamentally seeks to decry is life is hard work. It takes aching amounts of time to truly learn anything. Wisdom is not a gif, it's a battle weary gift, achieved often alone, with no accolades or applause, only the soul knowing the courage that's been employed to weather whatever, the soul who says, 'I saw that'.

Equally, whilst the work has to be ultimately a single endeavour, the journey does not have to be done alone. In times like these, seeking out those practised in these patient paths is key. They won't market loudly, or champion their ancient skills to all and sundry. No, it will be in their peace, the comfort of their presence. The fact they simple allow the griever to grieve, the heartbroken to mourn, and like a sentry of the Soul they bear, quiet, noble witness to sacred work, seeking neither to change or chivvy anyone out of where they are. Instead, appreciating what they are sharing and recognising the depth and the limits of any language.

Death has been virtually erased from our Culture. Sterile and quarantined, it's talked about in hushed tones before the conversation quickly shifts to holidays and other acts of denial. But death stands there quizzical, wondering why we aren't all preparing for the final act in this drama that all of us will experience. Death doulas are midwives of those who are transitioning, partnering the family in the emotion of letting go, resisting, screaming, accepting and finally witnessing the passage of a loved one. Pet or partner, the loss is huge and when we don't have some framework to house our own personal shiva, we do a disservice to a particularly exquisite period in our lives. Dousing death in denial is a life half lived, for to live richly is to know the impermanence of who we are, this character we all play.

Allowing a place for comfort and for someone perhaps more  wisened by the bitter ways of life than you is a profound act of self-kindness. Benefiting from hard won wisdow  seems a show of practical sense that can only comfort, only help.

So in these times of relentlessness, fear, loss and sorrow, reach out to those who can hold a beacon, show a light, lead for a while on your path. They can't do the work for you, but they can hold the space for you whilst you mourn, lament and let go of that which will no longer go with you. You're not alone.

Safe passage.