Have you ever experienced the feeling that you are lit from within? Like you were radiating with an inner glow, which emanates love for yourself and for the whole universe. Calmed by a deep sense of knowing that all is well, but without judgement, agenda or limit. Sensing that you are a beacon in the ocean of experience, a star in deep space, a flaming furnace on a cold winter’s night, or simply enjoying a sense of warmth and comfort that came from nowhere, with no reason, but could not be denied.
When I was around seven years old, I was walking down the road near my home, along a dusty path near a beach lined with Norfolk Pine trees. Seemingly from nowhere, I felt a warm golden light glowing out of my core, enveloping everything in its love. In that moment, I knew that all would be well, for myself and others, as long as we trusted in that inner glow and its emanation of unconditional embrace.
I’d done nothing in particular to deserve this spontaneous experience, but neither could I pretend it hadn’t happened. It lasted for a while then faded away, just as days pass and we grow older. Since then, I’ve spent a lifetime seeking to understand the mysteries of light.
Across the course of this meandering path, I always trusted that sense of inner knowing, which the ancients called gnosis; but I learnt to question it too. In fact, if there was a soundtrack to my path towards adulthood, it would be Supertramp’s Logical Song. I found out how all those grownups became so seemingly crazy and confused, as I became one of them.
One thing I’ve noticed is that no matter who we are, if we can find more of that inner glow, tend to it and help it grow, we can come from that place of self-love and inner warmth more often. When we glow from within, others respond, and the light overcomes the darkness of ignorance, selfishness and confusion.
Throughout my life, I have spent decades studying the world’s myths and legends during an MA on dreaming and a PhD on light, learning to meditate, teaching, sitting still in nature, and contemplating the universe as it is manifest both right here and far, far away. Finally, I trust my findings enough to share them. And, because we all want an experience of life as well as a meaning for it, I’m going to offer this teaching at retreat, as well as in a book.
Join me, Dr Geoff Berry, at the ‘That Inner Glow’ Autumn Retreat at Bawley Bush Retreat, Bawley Point, NSW, with Clare Lovelace & local guest teachers
Whatever we think we know about the immediate future of humanity and our increasingly beleaguered planet, one thing is for sure: in the face of ecosystem breakdown, new viral threats, and the myriad of other crises that continue to mount, our expectations about life will be continuously tested from this point on. And there’s one experience that inevitably follows all the others we are set to face – the trail of panic, anger, shock and awe at each mounting catastrophe, from unprecedented bushfires to devious new infections like the Coronavirus – and that is grief.
We were shocked at the
extent and ferocity of Australia’s fires this southern summer and we are now
showing signs of outright panic in the face of Coronavirus and its resistance
to containment. Given the lack of political will for climate action, we can
expect more communities to be torn apart, both by supercharged climate chaos
and by less dramatic but just as shocking events such as empty supermarket
shelves (wait until the crop failures start to kick in!).
Now is the time to begin to face this new reality. We are at the end of one era and the start of another. As climate scientists proclaimed, the halcyon days of the Holocene are over; welcome to the Anthropocene, wherein humanity has become so technologically powerful and prolific that we threaten the very viability of our planet’s atmosphere. This is a time to demand leadership that cares about our future; but it also a time that cries out for tears, as we relearn how to process our grief at what is happening to us, to our loved ones and our world.
Members of the community were invited to come together and participate in a grief ritual to assist healing after the bushfires. Held at Rosedale, a badly burnt suburb of Batemans Bay on the far south coast of NSW the event was facilitated by Geoff Berry, an ecotherapist and organiser of the local branch of Extinction Rebellion. “People need the chance to really feel and express their grief after crisis, loss or trauma of any kind. Modern society doesn’t do this very well and we need to fill that gap.” said Geoff. People were invited to bring something that they held sacred, or that connected them with whatever mixture of feelings the fires had brought. The ceremony offered a safe space to share feelings and featured some of the classic elements of grief rituals the world over – giving thanks, connecting with the spirit of place, singing together and a water element for cleansing. Pictured: Ecotherapist Geoff Berry leads the group at Rosedale beach. All photos generously taken by Gillianne Tedder.
In the south east of Australia, the fires are finally out. There are even full dams on some farms, bringing welcome relief to farmers and animals on the land. But even as bushfire is replaced by Coronavirus in the 24/7 news cycle, the more mundane, long work begins: of clean up, rebuild, the counting of losses, and the healing, which will be ongoing now for months, years, even generations in some cases. The loss of small businesses in regional areas affected by the fires is already a steady trickle and with it, increased unemployment and heightened risk of mental health issues. This won’t make headlines, unless it adds up to a big enough number to create some fear and trembling about lost GDP.
Pictured: the devastation at Rosedale.
But as we Australians drag ourselves out of astonishment at the fact that we just joined our Pacific Island neighbours at the coalface of the climate crisis, some of us have decided to do something about it. In Batemans Bay, a small town known as the starting point of endless south coast holidays over the years, a small but dedicated local group of the Extinction Rebellion recently held a grief ritual against a stark backdrop of blackened trees and ocean vistas. As with the international group, they protest the lack of political will to act on the climate crisis that is exacerbating it daily. But enacting a grief ritual is also a time-honoured, even ancestral tradition, which is designed to help people affected by loss and trauma.
Pictured: group participation in the grief ritual.
Grief is a natural human
response to tragedy, so it’s strange that it’s not a more prominent part of
current discussions about how we learn to live with our dangerous new world.
Modern westerners are better at getting on with business, reacting and moving
on, than we are at dealing with deep feelings of loss. But no matter where we
stand on anthropogenic climate change, we will be undone, at some stage, by
grief – and this is not all a bad thing.
Grieving allows us to feel what is happening to us in a way that opens up the possibility of something new, as we displace the power of our loss. Since time immemorial, grief has been ritualised, given time and space so that it can be processed as fully as possible. This doesn’t need to be complicated; all that is necessary for grief to be more fully experienced is that it is given breathing space and a supportive environment. When we do this collectively, we confirm each other as well. But we don’t only need to do this for ourselves and for each other: if we want to become adequate ecological citizens, we also need to explore grief for Country, as the Australian Aboriginal peoples call the lands, the animals, the trees, the rivers and even the soils we live on and with. This is something we modern westerners definitely haven’t been very good at acknowledging. Now is the time to admit that blind spot.
Pictured: This can also be done without close interpersonal contact; the grief ritual was performed before the Covid-19 reality and could easily be adapted this new scenario.
Enacting a grief ritual on
Country after the monumental losses suffered this summer is touching material.
The rites follow an ancient pattern, of joining in a circle, speaking
truthfully about our deepest feelings and fears, singing a song of grief, and
allowing tears of deep sadness and rage to spill freely upon the sand. Participants
are invited to bring along an item that connects them to Country and a bowl of
water is used to add a timeless ceremonial element.
We commemorate our losses in
a way that is timeless yet timely, ancestral yet relevant, personal and
collective. Maybe even in a way that will help us to reconcile our relationship
with the first peoples of this Country – and with the earth itself.
We will not be afraid to talk about the climate crisis that fuelled this fire season, as the atmosphere of the earth is warmed by over a degree already, resulting in the extensive and damaging changes we are seeing today. We will face the truth as courageously as possible.
Pictured Geoff Berry, Trish and Jesse on Rosedale Beach
Because the truth may be bitter medicine, unwelcome in an era when corporate-owned media wants to divert our attention from the most dire threat to our planet we have ever faced. But, as the old saying goes, the truth will set us free. Free to act on climate, to build community, to be as resilient and self-sufficient as possible, because our governments have failed us, beholden as they are to vested corporate interests.
We must continue to demand better from politics and business, but we must also take time to grieve for what we have lost, to clear the way for active hope and regeneration, to be refreshed by the beauty of our love for the earth and the life it supports.
Dr Geoffrey Berry is the Australian Representative to the International Ecopsychology Society, an Extinction Rebellion leader, and CEO of the South Coast NSW Aboriginal Elders Association. His day job is in building a trauma-informed caring community. **Please feel free to Share and Subscribe!**
What are the shapes and spirits, the dreaming creatures and elemental characters that appear to us when we turn to the natural world and ask for its teaching? We can look to the mythologies of traditional cultures to get a big picture story of some of the things we might expect – the cosmic serpent and the animal powers, the plant spirits and hybrid forms – but none of these may appear when we do the actual work in the world with real people. So, following on from my lecture on this subject to the Jung Society of Melbourne this March, it was a privilege to explore the Archetypes of Nature with several participants in the workshop that followed. And what appeared for us in that beautiful space?
It was a very windy day. A wind that had kept me up at night, so that I felt compelled to ask it: what have you to teach? It said: you must lift yourselves up to match me. You must draw on your work, not be afraid to project your voice, lift the group’s energy so that they join forces with the Archetypes of Nature and allow themselves to be evolved by the experience. There is no turning back or turning away from this challenge. Awaken that power, meet it head on and fulfil your promise.
And it meant it. The wind kept up. I thought that a tree could come down and crash through the roof of the building we used as our base for the day. I was worried we wouldn’t even be able to go out and do the work in the natural environment, amongst the tress on the hill, with the breeze in our faces and the scent of pine needles and the sunlight glinting through the clouds. So we stayed inside and shared enough of ourselves to build a little community for the first hour. We dropped into that trance-like state available to us when we allow constant drumming, like a rhythmic heartbeat, to modify our brain waves so that our guides, guardians and allies can appear in our psyches. We shared, when comfortable, what appeared to us and what it meant, how it opened us up to new levels of consciousness that integrated parts of ourselves that had dropped away through the process of socialisation. We broke for lunch and then – the day opened out to our presence in the great outdoors.
We left the building by marking our presence, as embodied beings in a living planet, with mindfulness of every step. We breathe as if the atmosphere nourishes us; each breath entering our lungs to enrich our blood with oxygen, to fill our bodies with life, and then to return to the world to be part of the ongoing cycle. Each footfall reminds us of the miracle of walking, as we balance on one leg before the other makes ground, like monkey paws holding us up as we feel the earth with our heels and toes, gripping and rolling us along the landscape. We stood still on that hillside and imagined the place before the buildings went up, before the streets were laid, sensing the landscape beneath for its rolling hillsides and valleys, ‘placing’ ourselves rather than just assuming we live on the land as strangers: cooped up in buildings and cars all the time, walking in straight lines and looking at the straight walls of buildings … remembering instead how to be primate bodies in relationship to the earth around us.
The stillness that ensues requests our silence, but the wind continued. When we go to practice active imagination, to enter into conversation with whatever spirits of nature appear for us, or Archetypes that have entered our dreams, I have to project my voice at nearly full capacity to be heard over the gusts, as I offer guidance in the protocols of giving thanks and requesting insight. Pay your respects at all times, I remind the group; send your blessings out to the spirits as if they were real, this is what we learn from the venerable traditions. Nature is full of intelligence, so it must be treated and approached with respect. Better to always approach the numinous with a hospitable door open to the spirits that work for the best outcome for all (and the door shut to other types of energy). These are simple rites, but not to be overlooked. They are the safety net for those with the courage to allow that we are not alone on earth.
Say hello to the sun, salute the moon, give thanks to the spirits of the air and the waters, place yourself in the middle of all the directions, up and down as well as all around … be prepared for the conversation to get real and for the appearance of anything. We had wind, all day, challenging us to rise up in response. We had mountains, still and permanent, implacable in the background. We had bark, more than once, speaking of layers: protecting the tree, stripped away to reveal more depths of being, letting go to fall to the ground. We explored the sense of displacement that has marked many of our lives, as we have shifted around the world, by choice or not: an archetype, or meaningful pattern, of modern life if ever there was one. Feeling as though we are alone at the edge of the desert, or looking down into the minutiae of physical life, coming here from Europe or Asia or the Middle East, wanting to feel we belong here and seeking reconciliation with the people that called this place home for countless generations before they too were displaced by the force of modernity. Appreciating the gentle little things, the drops of water that evaporated throughout the day, the flowers small enough to fit inside an acorn cap, the way a stone lifted leaves an imprint on the ground. Flying with a magpie, swirling around the integration of black and white feathers in the mind. Awakening to the way a spider can teach us to overcome our anxiety.
But finally, how can we remember this stuff in everyday life? How do we take the images that appear, the lessons we remember, the messages we receive from this sacred time together, where we carve out a space that Jung would have called a Temenos, to relink our unique selves with the greater reality of the one great Self, in daily life? If we can do that, from our encounter with Archetypes of Nature, then we have truly begun the next phase of our journey towards individuation: towards becoming more truly our own unique, embodied, unrepeatable selves so that we can let go of our attachments to the smaller self of learned responses, defensive patterns and old dreams. Letting go into the infinite potential of the universe as it becomes what it will be, in every moment.
