One of the Buddha’s many great insights was that humans cause a great deal of our own suffering by constantly wanting things to be different than they are. He realised (2,500 years before Western psychology) that it’s in our nature to grasp after pleasant, enjoyable experiences; and push away and avoid ‘aversive’, or unpleasant experiences. We all do this, all the time, including me.

And one of the aversive experiences we all struggle with is that of loss. This is why bereavement is so painful for us, or the end of a cherished relationship. As I write this, leaves on the trees in my garden are turning orange, red and yellow, then fluttering to the ground, signalling the end of summer and the slow but inexorable slide into winter. As spring signifies life – green shoots everywhere, flowers bursting into bloom, days getting longer and warmer – so autumn reminds us that time marches on, summer ending, days shortening and growing colder.

Why loss is so painful

I have lost deeply loved people in my life, and felt that loss reverberate for months or even years. I have also had my heart broken many times, so deeply understand from the inside what it is to lose and why that is so viscerally painful. But I wouldn’t change any of these experiences, however hard they were, because that sorrow meant something. It meant that I loved these people deeply. It meant that losing them was big, and significant, and mattered.

It’s a cliche, I know, but to love deeply means making yourself vulnerable to being hurt. And that’s because we open our hearts, letting our defences and barriers down – because we have to, or we would never truly feel love. And what is life without love? Well, it’s safe, (reasonably) predictable and feels somewhat more in control. But it’s also lonely, flat and a bit empty, because humans are wired for love.

I have written extensively about attachment and the way we are wired to attach to our mother (then father, siblings, grandparents, and so on) from the very moment of our birth. I have also written a lot about the way our hunter-gatherer ancestors lived for millions of years – in small bands, out in the wilds, connected to each other in tight, tribal bonds for life.

Learning to accept loss

So you are wired for love, connection, attachment – it’s in your DNA. But of course, for some people, this is not easy. If you have a trauma history, forming long-term, loving, stable relationships might be difficult for you. But I would very much hope you get some help in changing that, in making your attachment style more secure. That is, in my opinion, one of the key goals of any trauma-informed therapy – it’s certainly something I aim for with all of my clients.

I also hope you work on accepting the hard fact that loss is part of living a human life. We all lose people we love. We all get our hearts broken sometime. We might lose a job, a business, our health. And, of course, in the end we all lose life itself. This is probably the hardest thing we all have to face – and it’s why Buddhists practice a wide range of meditations specifically designed to help the meditator accept the inescapable reality that we will all die sometime.

“Don’t run away from grief, o soul,
Look for the remedy inside the pain,
because the rose came from the thorn
and the ruby came from a stone.”

— Rumi

This may all seem a bit gloomy – if so, I’m sorry. But to me it’s not gloomy, it is actually deeply freeing to accept that loss comes to us all, in many guises. Because what’s the alternative? To spend our lives desperately trying to avoid the truth of our mortality? Then we also probably hate the fact that we’re ageing, spending a small fortune on this magical, ‘age-reversing’ serum or that surgical enhancement. That’s no way to live, in my opinion – we all age, whether we like it or not, so why not embrace those wrinkles, your lovely grey hair? I know it’s hard, but the alternative is much harder.

I strongly believe that we only have one wild, beautiful, miraculous life. This is it. So shouldn’t we embrace life in all its joy and sadness? Shouldn’t we learn to cherish each second, to feel everything, fully and deeply? Otherwise we may be wasting precious days and weeks and months running away from something that can’t be outrun.

Allow yourself to be sad. To cry. To grieve for the beautiful people and things that you have lost.

Only then will you be fully alive.

Warm wishes,

Dan