By Gary Hirsch
I often write about collaboration, joy, creativity, and improvisation and will again, but at this moment, I wanted to write about something else. I want to talk about grief.
I think we are all grieving a little bit (or a lot) all the time. Some of us are grieving with a “Big G” – the loss of a loved one, significant life changes, illness, divorce, life-threatening circumstances, losing a job, and other “Big G” reasons. There is also “little g” grief: the end of a favorite book, the end of a season. Life is impermanent, so everything comes to an end, and we can feel it.
I forget this sometimes, that everyone is grieving about something in their own way. It’s easy to forget. It’s not really socially acceptable to show grief, at least that has been my experience living in the U.S. Smiles, laughter, and positive expressions are loved and encouraged, but the first thing I do when I find myself welling up with tears around other people is to apologize, hide my face, or leave the room. We cover our grief.
What would it be like if we had a way to indicate to others that we are grieving? How would we connect with and humanize each other if we knew?
I was thinking about this idea after attending a gathering at the Applied Improvisation Network annual conference this summer in Vancouver, B.C. A session was hosted by my friend and colleague Brad Fortier that he titled ‘Good Grief.’ About 20 people explored what grieving meant to them by sharing stories and exchanging experiences. There were various “Big G” stories about losing a loved one and little “g stories” about saying goodbye to a daughter as she leaves for college. We were all grieving, but if Brad had not created a space and time and safety for us to exchange these stories of our grief, it would have largely stayed hidden.
I began to wonder what it would be like to be more attentive to other people’s grief. What if (and I am not actually suggesting this) we all had our own little personal grief light: a small yellow light that sat on our shoulder and allowed everyone to see the intensity of our grief? We could walk through our neighborhood at night and see grief lights twinkling from friends and strangers. I think we would all have our lights on at various degrees of brightness in some way. What would it be like to be reminded that everyone is experiencing some level of grief? How bright would your grief light be, a small glimmer or a searing hot spotlight? How would we be with and treat each other if we could see grief as easily as we see joy?
As I continue to live and, therefore, continue to grieve, I want to tune in even more to the idea that we are all grieving. I want to be seen in my grief and see others in theirs. More connection, more humanity, please.
