This deeply compassionate and wise book by Joanne Cacciatore was recommended to me by a family therapist several years ago. Before I engaged in brief therapy with one of my sons, and in our initial conversation, this therapist spoke to me of Bearing the Unbearable upon learning of the suicide of my twin brother in 1978. It didn't matter that decades had passed and that I had done many years of deep grieving and healing, I still found this gem by Joanne Cacciatore to be a wise and beautiful gift.
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| Photo by Molly |
It is in knowing suffering, in all its darkest places and with all its most harrowing faces, that we are brought to a place of fierce compassion for others, and perhaps one day, for ourselves.
The road of sorrow is not easy. It is ominous, jarring, and narrow.
We may meet others along the road who offer sustenance: some water, a morsel of food, loving support or guidance, a small candle to light the way, a hand that helps us climb out of a ditch we've fallen into, a patch of shade in which we can shelter from the heat. Such meetings plant seeds.
These seeds of kindness grow one day into our own compassionate care for others.
And, at some point, we ourselves will shade another.
At times, the turn toward compassionate action unfurls so slowly.
At other times, the calling is more precipitous, a tsunami in response to quakes of fully inhabited grief.
And this is how our world will change.
Those who have deeply suffered understand life in ways others cannot: they know the only way to attain authentic and lasting contentment is to turn our hearts outward in service to those who are suffering as we have suffered.
I am now present with life because I am present with death.
I know joy and peace because I am present with grief and suffering.
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