When I meet survivors of suicide or survivors of loss, I am always blown away by their empathy and compassion – their willingness to help. Whether it be a big bear hug, a patient ear, a piece of advice or help with a problem or situation – the compassionate, loving light within them extends. Why so? To me – when you lose someone you love and cherish, there’s a remembrance of their light – or in other words – the love which made them special. Their spirit. That remembrance cuts straight to your core because it is a recognition of your own light and love. That which expresses itself from the love within is contributing to the whole. This world of ours is a mirror. And although our inner state after a loss is in turmoil in many ways, the one constant is that powerful feeling of love. Now, this inner-knowing is often times clouded amongst a barrage of emotions depending on how recent the loss may be. These emotions can definitely take control over you for the sheer fact that you place more attachment on these emotions over a continual length of time. That attachment and replayed emotions over days, weeks, months and even years keeps you stuck in a reality that doesn’t exist. […]


I know how hard it is to tell the truth about how you’re feeling after surviving a loss – even to a therapist. In some ways I think it’s even harder when you’ve experienced a suicide. As my Mum once described it to me, she said – “I feel like I’ve had a brick smashed across my face”. Yeah, that sounds about right. Then to top that off if you’re male and you’re an Australian male – “Mate, you’ll be right in a few months. Chin up, it’ll be all good”. You’re asked to run when you’re unable to crawl. It’s true. It will be all good in time. But there are very necessary, vital steps in order to reach that place, and not only reach that place but grow from there as well and in heal in such a way that you are able to give and receive more love that you ever thought possible. One method along the path to healing that I would highly recommended in any part of the grieving process is to write your grief. It’s been a life-changing experience where I have learnt that the grief you experience has an intelligence of its own. You need to let it tell you what it knows. With writing your grief you’re free in your own space. You are free to hear the truth of your grief that yearns to speak. You are free to open your heart in the privacy of your own space and hear what it has to say. Like love, pain needs expression. There’s a magic authenticity of connecting with your pain and allowing it to spill from your being. It won’t bring back the person you love, but it will create a shift within if consistently applied to your daily life. […]


It is not human to fear death. That is a universal truth stitched into the fabric of the universe. This life of ours that we experience requires death for it to continue and survive. In essence, death feeds everything that lives. It is the end of life that gives life a chance. The dilemma for modern culture is that there is such anxiety about the end of our lives. The understanding and deeper acknowledgement that our lives are in the loop of life – that our lives actually are the loop eludes us. We are blind in such respects and it is no wonder that at the end of life we see so many people trying to make out meaning from there lives. What was it all for? The love within you is a part of the whole – the power and the source that has been gifted to you. Your love is a creator like the source is came from. Your job is to share that love as expressed uniquely through what gives you joy. I know for many years after my brother committed suicide – I would ask – “what does this all mean?” What if there was no meaning to be found? What if it’s not something we have to go around searching for? What if we’re all chasing something that can never be located? The very fact that we are on these missions to find meaning leads us to an elusive and endless on-going journey…for what exactly? […]


Our experience of losing someone we love is a remarkable one when I stop and think about it. For the vast majority of us in the western world, what we have been taught about death, revolves around finality. When the lights go out, the party’s over. And whether you fear death or not, from this perspective, death marks closing time on our journey, long or short as it may be, and thereafter is nothing. No continuation. No more growth. Just a memory in the mind for us left behind whose numbers have yet to be called. Not overly exciting now is it? And not overly congruent either with the continuous and boundless cycle of nature’s circle of life. It’s no wonder that this fuels our perceptions to classify such an experience as sad, heartbreaking, fearful and traumatic for example. One minute we are with our loved one in the kitchen having breakfast, the next they are physically gone forever. Our experience instinctually lets us know this is a horrible event that’s just occurred, and yes, to be human is to feel. The death of a loved one is a sucker punch to the stomach like no other. Forget having the wind knocked out of you – it feels like there never was any wind. We mourn and grieve the physical loss of our parents, siblings, friends and lovers because we truly loved them. Those shared experiences that have so intimately made up our lives to date will be sorely (and sometimes not so sorely) missed. As a result, tremendous sadness and a range of fearful feelings give rise because of this love – the love that we so powerfully shared with another person and connected with through the form of laughter, hugs & kisses, conversation, empathy and the wholeness and unity felt in their company. We mourn and grieve that this love can no longer be physically expressed and shared in the exact same way in the presence of our lost loved one. […]