Feel your feelings they say, so your spleen is trim and healthy. Sit in those emotions and let them go all the way through you, open your heart. ARGH. When it is a tragedy of a brutal teenage murder of passion, or a random drive-by shooting from a madman, the puzzlement of the meaning freezes me. I can hardly cry.
I feel for the mothers–even if drunk and angry themselves, for the loss of the sweet chile. Or the loss of the myth that they held a child in love.
The thought that helps is the giggle when the spirit leaves the body and shuffles off the coil yet another time to jump into pure spirit. Imagining the laughter about setting up and completing such spiritual contracts throughout the community family and world.
the word that come to me in meditation was “Splendid!” Not to be pondered, but just to repeat over and over again. Death: splendid!