Creative Sanctuary

pandemic life

Disenfranchised Grief: Ways to Deal and Heal

By Allison

Tuscan hills

Each of us has built a collection of seemingly small losses in the last few years—cancelled trips, lost time with family, missed events like graduations and weddings.  The accumulation of these disappointments weighs heavy and cultivates disenfranchised grief.  This type of grief is difficult to identify, and a lot of us feel guilty honoring it.  When others have suffered more, what right do we have to mourn our more minor losses?

I believe it is essential to acknowledge disenfranchised grief, to speak it to someone with whom we feel safe, and then to find alternative ways to enact small joys.  I’ve recently felt a diffused, latent grumpiness.  I didn’t understand why my temper was short, and I didn’t know why I was feeling emotional.  When I paused and went within, I realized that my quiet little griefs had brought on a palpable mood shift.  The second I acknowledged my disenfranchised grief, I felt the tension in my shoulders ease a bit.  It’s okay to feel sad for the lost moments with loved ones and the vacations that never happened.  As I let my grief evolve, I distract myself in lighthearted ways.  The feelings of disappointment will diminish, and in the meantime, I counterbalance my grief with happy activities.

Memory Travel

With travel severely restricted and very stressful, I’ve mostly traveled through my past.  The last two weeks, my 2015 trip to Italy’s Val d’Orcia has been on my mind.  I’m reliving the early mornings on the deck, when the sun came up over the valley, the wild boars squealed, and the birds chirped.  Day after day, I’ve been seeing the glorious Tuscan hills in my third eye and almost tasting the fruity olive oil we drizzled on our pasta.  Rather than leave me with a sense of loss, my Italian reveries are fulfilling and hopeful.

Awaken the Senses

Throughout the pandemic, the kitchen has been my happy place.  Meal preparation calls upon multiple senses.  I see the bright produce I pull from the grocery shelves, touch the ingredients as I chop, smell the herbs as I rub them between my fingers, hear the vegetables sizzle in the olive oil, and taste the dish resulting from my labor.  After tinkering with my winter minestrone soup, I am ready to share my recipe, found at the end of this post.  Please make it your own!  Dried beans are even more delicious than canned, and dried herbs can be used in a pinch. My winter minestrone will adjust to your whims, your pantry, and your senses.

Work It Out on the Mat

Sometimes the best way to deal with grief is through movement.  This week, my yoga mat has been a place of respite.  I admit I’m not pushing myself hard.  My exercise is slow and intentional.  In the weeks to come, I’ll be ready for more rigor.  But for now, I just need to process loss and disappointment.  I am learning that acknowledging my grief is uplifting.

 

Winter Minestrone

Created by on December 30, 2021

Hills of Tuscany

Ingredients

  • 1/4 c extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for serving
  • Parmesan cheese, grated
  • 1/4 c extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for serving
  • 1 medium-large onion
  • 2 ribs celery, diced
  • 2 carrots, diced
  • 3 cloves garlic, sliced or chopped
  • 1/2 tsp. chopped rosemary
  • 1 tsp. chopped sage
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 1 can diced tomatoes (14.5 oz)
  • 1 bunch kale, stemmed, washed, and chopped
  • 1/2 butternut squash, peeled and cut into ¼ inch cubes
  • 4 c water
  • 1 can cannellini or great northern beans, drained and rinsed
  • salt and pepper

Instructions

  1. Warm olive oil over medium heat and sauté onion until light gold, about 8 minutes. Add celery and carrots to pot with 2 tsp salt, and cook to a rich golden brown, about 8-10 minutes. Add kale, garlic, rosemary, bay leaf, and sage. Cook over med-low heat for about 5 minutes, taking care to keep the garlic and herbs from burning. Add water and tomatoes, turn up heat, and simmer for 15 minutes. Add squash and cook until tender, about 15 minutes. Then, add the beans and cook until heated through. Remove the bay leaf. If soup is too thick, thin with hot water. Serve in bowls, garnishing each with a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil and one spoonful grated Parmesan cheese. Variation: For a thicker soup, use two cans of beans.
  2. Warm olive oil over medium heat and sauté onion until light gold, about 8 minutes. Add celery and carrots to pot with 2 tsp salt, and cook to a rich golden brown, about 8-10 minutes. Add kale, garlic, rosemary, bay leaf, and sage. Cook over med-low heat for about 5 minutes, taking care to keep the garlic and herbs from burning. Add water and tomatoes, turn up heat, and simmer for 15 minutes. Add squash and cook until tender, about 15 minutes. Then, add the beans and cook until heated through. Remove the bay leaf. If soup is too thick, thin with hot water. Serve in bowls, garnishing each with a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil and one spoonful grated Parmesan cheese. Variation: For a thicker soup, use two cans of beans.

Inspirations

New York Times on disenfranchised grief

Slow Looking

Beauty in Grief 

Resting Bench

By Allison

banc-reposoir Alsace“I am that living and fiery essence of the divine substance that glows in the beauty of the fields.  I shine in the water, I burn in the sun and the moon and the stars.”  –Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179)

The bancs-reposoirs (“resting benches”) of Alsace are sandstone memories of 19th-century peasant life.  Spaced about 2 kilometers apart on well-traveled ways, the benches provided a place of rest for farmers headed into town on market day.  Women, who carried their goods in baskets on their heads, placed them on the lintel topping the structure.  The resting benches were often shaded by linden trees.

Throughout Alsace, about 170 bancs-reposoirs remain, built in 1811 and 1854.  Found along a windy road in Hilsenheim, France, this bench offered a moment of respite to people carrying a heavy load.  Visiting it in the 21st century, I try to imagine the trek to the next town and the weight of the wheat and bran the women carried on their heads.  What emotional burdens weighed on them?  What were their passions?  Did they enjoy aspects of this work?

It goes without saying that there is a disparity in experience between 19th-century Alsatian peasants and a 21st-century college professor from across the ocean.  Though as I trace my finger on the lichen covering the stone, I remember that time is fluid and that in this spot, the centuries touch.  I sit on the same resting bench.  The landscape I take in resembles the backdrop of their lives—neat fields, spring greens, unruly grasses in the ditch.  They may have felt a similar May breeze on their skin.  Stone, place, and air connect us.

This moment also reminds me that rest is essential.  The world is currently burdened by a pandemic.  After almost a year of living in crisis mode, we need to sit on our own figurative resting benches.  Let us stop and catch our breath.  Let us remember our fiery essences.  Let us also be still and smile, seeing how we glow in the fields, shine in the water, and burn in the heavens.

 

Pandemic Life: Self-Soothing

By Allison

light on floorLike many of you, I am beginning my sixth week of extreme social distancing.  My work life, social life, and family life have all moved online.  I am very happy to maintain my connections with students, friends and family.  My advanced literature course has turned into a fabulous Zoom book club discussing Zola’s Le Ventre de Paris (The Belly of Paris).  And raucous family happy hours (“cocktail hour” as Mom calls it) launch me into each weekend.

Yet in spite of the abundance of positive and supportive interactions, I’ve had to find ways to keep my pandemic anxiety at bay.  I’m coming to understand that when daily existence is dramatically different from anything we’ve previously known, we must call on our own spiritual or philosophical foundations and tap into our personal strength as a means to soothe ourselves.  I expect that you each practice your own calming rituals.  Today I share a few of mine, as a few of you may want to adopt and adapt one of these practices.

Long Walks and Audio Books

Reading has always been my balm, but with a heavier work load, expanded screen time, and physical stagnation, I’ve found it very difficult to settle down with a book.  Audio books have rescued me!  Every day that it doesn’t rain, I walk for an hour and listen to an audiobook, borrowed from my public library.  All of my pandemic reading has been escapist:  The Most Fun We Ever Had (Claire Lombardo), The Burning Chambers (Kate Mosse), and A Long Petal of the Sea (Isabel Allende).  A family drama, an historical novel set in Toulouse, and the great Chilean author’s most recent novel.  Each and every one has been a joyful, intriguing read.

No Waste Kitchen

My grandma always said that cooking was her therapy.  It’s my therapy too, but I’ve had to change my approach during the pandemic.  I can’t pop out to the grocery store on a whim like I used to.  I must work with what I have on hand, and I have become very strict about waste in my kitchen.  No parsley stem goes unused.  Each and every knob of ginger gets worked into a dish, and I constantly strategize about how I can best use freezer space.  Some of my meals have been deliciously memorable.  A few have flopped.  But each and every day, the process has been grounding.

Reading with Nora

Before the coronavirus, I had never taught small children.  But when I learned that my six year-old niece Nora wouldn’t be in school for the foreseeable future, my duty as aunt and educator inspired me to step into the role of first grade reading teacher.  Every morning at 11:00 Nora FaceTimes me, and we spend 30-40 minutes working on reading and writing.   We’ve found a pleasant, loose rhythm in our class.  We take turns reading to each other from the Scholastic Learn at Home program, and then we move to a more advanced Beverley Clearly book:  Beezus and Ramona.  Nora reads most of the dialogue, which is challenging without becoming frustrating.  And I read the rest.  Some days she is enthralled!  I’ve learned to be flexible in my pedagogy.  Some days she just wants to tell me about walking in the woods with her dad or building a snowman.  Other days, writing and drawing take precedent over reading.  A few days ago, she wanted to make a prank phone call to Uncle Jack, so we did.  For me, the priority is keeping everything fun and wrapping up the lesson when I see Nora’s attention lagging.  The regularity and lightness of our class has been stabilizing for me.  Although I have always felt that I know Nora well, I am getting to know her better each week.  Not just as an aunt, but as a first-grade reading teacher and as a confidant.

Tea.  Always Tea.

I have long been a devoted tea drinker.  My favorite tea shop is still shipping and offering curbside pickup, so my tea cupboard is staying stocked.  I have also used long days at home to dig deep into my tea collection.  I’ve pulled out rare oolongs that need multiple steepings to bring out their nuances; I’ve dug into samples that tea friends have gifted me in the last few years; this afternoon I sipped a wild Pu-erh from my friend Nana Ding’s Strasbourg shop.  The ritual of preparing tea is soothing in itself, but scientific research is beginning to demonstrate the health benefits of tea that come from caffeine, EGCG, and L-theanine.

How are you self-soothing these days?