Greetings, this fine day. I hope you are well and enjoying life. As we enter September, the nights are lengthening, and the light is changing. I can feel the call of autumn and relish the gentle temperatures that signal a coming change. The seasonal cycles are such a gift to remember that change is normal and to be at ease with what is unfolding.
Last Tuesday, I attended a concert in Glasgow called 'A Night of Grief and Mystery' with the author and wonderful teller of stories, Stephen Jenkinson. For over ten years, Stephen supported dying people during the closing of the cycle of their lifetime. His insight and wisdom led him to write the book Die Wise, a Manifesto for Sanity and Soul. It is a remarkable book that underpins his belief that death is' not something not to be denied or avoided but to be befriended as a coming mystery'.
The evening was a collaboration with musician Gregory Hoskins and his band. They brought their separate works into 'part concert, part poetry, part lamentation, part ribaldry, part lifting the mortal veil and learning the mysteries there'. It was held in a gothic church and had all the mysterious energy you can see in the image below. The video gives you insight into the music, the wisdom and the obvious delight that the whole group take in this beautiful endeavour. Click here or on the image to view.
I loved it, and I was enthralled.
Even as I write, I can feel the emotion rising within me as I savour the experience once more. While I expected it would be an interesting evening, I was unprepared for a two-hour journey that captivated my attention throughout. The combination of Stephen's voice, delivery style, wisdom words and the musical backing from the band seamlessly echo in my soul.
Here is an example of Stephen's writing on grief that gives you a sense of his word craft.
'Loving and grieving are joined at the hip, for all the beauty, soul, and travail that brings. Grief is a way of loving what has slipped from view. Love is a way of grieving that which has not yet done so. We would do well to say this aloud for many days, to help get it learned: Grief is a way of loving, love is a way of grieving. They need each other in order to be themselves'.
There is beauty in this prose that is provocative and life-affirming in equal measure. Stephen stops me in my tracks. I cannot skim the writing. It requires attention, which means taking my time and lots of breaks. But I keep going for the next nugget of gold.
Below is another piece of Stephen's writing that shows what he can do with a simple idea. See how he can weave the personal and the metaphysical with ease. Look at the length of the sentence in the middle of the paragraph and the number of commas. I found a cadence there that matches the ebb and flow of my breathing. Quite remarkable!
'I myself don't while away the hours. A protestant-in-manner to the death, though largely lapsed now, I am prone to working. Not droning. Working, by which I mean giving myself to something, hopefully to something like the highest, noblest bidder. There is, of course, the problem of fetishizing activities that are not much more than dithering. If you don't find the highest bidder for your attention and your skills, and still you are fond of working, and you will obey the fondness to a fault, you could, in time, resemble someone on the subtle end of the autism spectrum, full of involuntary getting on with your life, life probably going the other way. But if you work at it, and the reason for your birth comes into view, work can be good for you. So it has gone for me, anyway.'
As you must appreciate by now, I commend his work to you:)
Griefwalker : The Documentary
The film was published in 2008 and spans a twelve-year period of Stephen’s time with doctors and nurses and his counselling of dying people and their families. I found it immensely moving and uplifting. Click here or on the image to view.
One reviewer says of the film, 'The effect is exquisite, poignant, perfumed with cedar scented smoke and salty tears and praise for the morning. Yes! There is a tempo to the film that marries the lived experience of dying people with the beauty and imagery of the natural world.
Seasons within Seasons!
For some reason, it did not feel right to ask questions this week. So, instead, to just close as Stephen did with a bow and the lingering sense of the beauty of our shared humanity.
Much love to you.
Ann
Oh Ann—what a profound opportunity!! Stephen’s writings were a type of alchemical experience for me. He succeeded in opening my heart to the process of life by fearlessly and eloquently exploring death... thank you for your robust and childlike zest for life and passion for sharing with us—your writings and your heart are a huge gift to me! Much love and thanks to you!!!l♥️
It was a lovely surprise to see you there too Ann. It was a truly magical evening for me. I am just off to watch the video. Big hug. mark