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I saw grief drinking a cup of sorrow and called out, “It tastes sweet, does it not?” “You’ve caught me,” grief answered, “and you’ve ruined my business, how can I sell sorrow when you know it’s a blessing?”

JALALUDDIN RUMI

(1207–1273)

Persian mystical poet and Sufi saint Jalaluddin Rumi writes about the pure love we can achieve, beyond ego, in the soul’s divine longing and ecstasy of union with God.

Oh how we love to grieve. We even read books about how important the grieving process is to our recovery, and then we go so far as to identify grief as a necessary stage of sorrow that we have to experience to overcome our losses and regain our sanity. But Jalaluddin Rumi, a thirteenth-century mystical poet, writing in the area known today as Afghanistan, sends a message from the Middle Ages. He suggests that grief is a blessing, rather than something to tolerate as a necessary evil on the way to recovery. It is not sorrowful at all, but instead it is an opportunity to drink the sweet nectar that is available in the dark moments of our lives.

For most of us, grieving is how we react to a loss or a tragic event, and it seems to be a natural way of reacting to the experience of pain in our lives. But if we knew the wisdom of Rumi’s words, we might be able to shift right in the middle of this grieving process and turn our sorrow into something sweet-tasting.

One of the great teachings of my life came from my exploration of the Kabbalah, a mystical text of Judaism that goes back many centuries, as do Rumi’s teachings. The simple lesson for me was “The falls of our life provide us with the energy to propel ourselves to a higher level.” I read and reread this ancient wisdom. As I allowed it to soothe the sharp anguish of life’s painful moments, I began to incorporate this wisdom during times of sadness and grief. I discovered the truth of this idea that every fall provides us the opportunity to generate the necessary energy to move to higher consciousness. Every sinking into despair has within it an energy to move us higher.

How many times in your life have dark times of despair, such as some kind of an accident, an illness, a financial disaster, a breakup in a relationship, a fire or flood, a loss of property, or a death, propelled you into the stages of anguish, anger, denial, and then grief? Like most of us, you sink into sorrow and feel the need to tell everyone about your misfortune. Ultimately, after a long period of time, you begin to rise above it and reach the state of acceptance.

Now suppose you knew that what had taken place in your life which you termed a loss or a fall was exactly what was supposed to happen? Suppose you knew instantly that you had to experience the event that triggered your grief and sorrow? Then suppose you could choose to act in accordance with this new awareness? Undoubtedly this “supposing” conflicts with all you have been taught about how you’re supposed to react to catastrophe and death. I am not suggesting you not respect your genuine feelings. I am suggesting that the truth of Rumi’s observations offer you another way of responding to these kinds of circumstances. I am encouraging you to open to the gift or sweetness that is also in the sorrow.

This is an intelligent system that we are all an inseparable part of, and there are no accidents. There is something to learn right here, right now in the middle of sorrow. You can take this lesson and taste the sweet certainty in the mystery. You do not have to pretend to like the tragedy, only to vow to use it to generate the energy to move to a higher place in your life. You could call out to your sorrow just as Rumi did over eight hundred years ago and say to yourself, “It tastes sweet, does it not?” That is, there is something to learn right here, right now in the middle of this sweet sorrow, and I am going to drink it in this manner, and ruin the business of the grief peddlers.

In what we refer to as primitive societies death is an occasion for celebration. There is a basic knowing, even in times of grief and mourning, that does not question the divine timing of each person’s arrival here on earth, or the divine timing of one’s departure either. It is all in order! Perhaps the comfort is the sweetness of seeing that it is all part of the perfection of our universe, which has an invisible organizing intelligence flowing through every cell of creation, including the many painful experiences over a lifetime—then celebrating it all.

As a high school student I was a high jumper on the track team. I won’t discuss the heights I ascended to, but we know from the movies that white men can’t jump! Nevertheless, I used to set the bar on the stands, take a position thirty to fifty feet back, sprint fast toward the bar, and get down as low as possible to generate the added energy to propel my entire body over the bar. By getting down low I could ascend higher. My high school track days provide me with an image that is analogous with the message of Rumi. It is the message of the Kabbalah, and it is my message to you.

Grief, when it is only an inner experience of sadness and sorrow, will keep you down in the very depths of the plunge itself. It will immobilize you and weigh you down with guilt and anguish. But when you know that this despair has within it some sweet blessing, you disrupt the grief/sorrow partnership, and the fall helps you regain your footing and soar above the devastating potholes of life on earth.

Here are some alternatives to the grief/sorrow dilemma:

 Stop yourself in the middle of a sorrowful moment and very deliberately say, “Do I have to suffer now, inside as well as outside, over this loss, which I will ultimately come to see as a blessing?” Listen and follow your response. No matter what, you are introducing to yourself the possibility of an improved response to despair.

 Practice being able to honestly express your feelings of loss without believing that you must be filled with sorrow as well. It is possible to feel the loss, express it, and still know within the blessing in all of this. Do not demand instant change. Allow what is there to be there at the same time that you allow the possibility of different behavior.

 You may have accepted grief and sorrow as inseparable because you have been taught that it is cold and inhuman to be otherwise. When you know that all falls are blessings and all losses are in divine order, you will gradually sweeten the sorrow and you will gain the energy to soar to a higher altitude in all areas of your life.