Spirituality & Loss

When we enter into relationship, whether the relationship is forged for us by circumstances of birth, repeated social contact or attraction and choice, we develop ties that bind. In the case of a respectful, long-standing and loving relationship, the connection cords function to sustain, uphold, nourish and, ultimately, provide us with the understanding and support which help carry us through a lifetime.

Whenever a loved one crosses over, we lose those physical and emotional connections that once nourished us.  Physical mortality disrupts our lives, rendering us bereft of the luminescent relationship cords that had once sustained and fed us spiritually.  Our grieving, in such situations, is profound and deep.


Thus, grief–after a physical loss or passing caused by death–is the result of, not only another’s absence, but also caused by the dissolution of those critical ties.  Grief is the Spirit’s emotional response to missing another person’s unique personality, gifts and Light, as well as our experience of that lack of nourishment. The close friend, relative, child or partner, who is now gone, can no longer fill–with laughter, sympathy, joy and listening–the gouges in the heart which are caused by the sometimes rough traffic of daily living or by the times when we have separated ourselves from our own inner Light.

Spirituality: Closer to Home

Walking up the steps, out of the basement floor of a governmental building, I stop when I spot a small earthworm in my path.  S/he is still moist, so I bend to see whether or not s/he is still alive. (Worms are hermaphrodites, possessing both male and female genitalia for purposes of efficient biological reproduction.)


We have had several days of relentless rain and ice; and, the poor creature is at least twenty-five to thirty feet from any actual ground, being fully surrounded by impenetrable concrete.  The earthworm probably landed here after trying to escape the flooding of her/his home.

As I bend closer, the worm moves ever so slightly.  I take this as an answerto my inquiry.  So, I finish bending over to pick her/him up and proceed to walk forty-five feet to a grassy place at the base of a young tree, standing on the building’s grounds.

The worm does not have much fight or kick left. (I know this because I sometimes perform this service of moving worms from concrete and asphalt to grass, after severe rainstorms, on my regular walks.) One passerby looks at me inquisitively.

But, the way I figure it is this.  If I were that worm, I would rather have the opportunity to burrow back into the earth and expire in terra firma–closer to home–than to become dried to a crisp and cross over after having become too tired from hopelessly lurching across asphalt or concrete.

Where is home for you?