Eleora Han's Blog

“I tried so hard to make you happy. Why wasn’t it enough"?”

“I waited for you to come home each night. I kept thinking you would. But you never did. So I stopped waiting.”

These are the words which continue to haunt me and which are filled with heartbreak.

It has gotten better with time, but every once in a while these words and memories flash before me and I am reminded of how sad grief can be, of what the heartbreak of loss can feel like when you’ve played an irrevocable part in it.

Hi everyone,

There is something I wanted to share to you about grief as I know that we are each in our own stages of its journey. It is that it takes time to heal, sometimes surprisingly long. For me it has been 7 years. And yet I still find myself healing or struggling to heal, in some ways that are unexpected.

If anyone were to look on the outside, they would see that I seem to have recovered from my time of grief. I have gotten remarried, went on to establish a mental health practice, etc.

Interestingly, even if you were to ask me, myself, I would have said I was doing fine.

But what is surprising to me is all the unconscious ways in which grief expresses itself, even unbeknownst to oneself. The pain that one carries, all the ways in which one learns to live around it, to live with it. In some ways healed, but in other ways a wound that remains carried, still needing time and space.

There is a sense of judgment, like how could it affect one for so long? And yet how could it not.

Some wounds you know of, but what about the ones you dont ? All the ways in which you were affected which are too painful to go into, a place for which there are no words.

Maybe it makes sense that there are no words.

It is in this place that something is needed. Healing, transformation, an understanding, a peace. To do so is to come into a sense of wholeness again. Like a spider weaving a web, we are able to weave all the parts of ourselves together, all the parts of our life together.

How do we invite ourselves to do so?

I think each of us is seeking this sense of wholeness, healing, restoration. I know that I am each day, in trying to make sense of it all. How can I bring all the parts of myself together, all the parts some of which I am not totally sure of, who lie in the shadows yet unexpressed , in true light and reconciliation with myself.

Perhaps it is in this process that something of grace and kindness is generated and understood. It is from this dark process that light is somehow created.

Im not sure Im making sense here and I dont have answers. But I wonder — are there places of yourself and your journey with grief in which you can relate?

I also wanted to remind everyone that I am not writing here much any more as it became too difficult to maintain different websites for writing. I would love for you to visit me at innercalling.org. There is something about the need to know that through grief can come connection, a sense of meaning. Of wholeness again.

Wishing you lots of love and light on your journey where ever you are today!

Prior to my experience with loss, I had thought I had known everything there simply was to know about love. I know that sounds a bit arrogant, but it is true. At the time, I was in my late twenties. I had a happy marriage — someone I loved and who loved me. I was content, secure, fulfilled. We had many good times and memories, just as we also had fights here and there, like any other couple. Thoughts of him were always in my future; like breathing air, it was just a given. This was love.

Interestingly, I used to joke with him that if he died, I wouldnt know what to do with myself and that I’d have to die too. I said this as a joke as I was self aware enough to know that it was not quite appropriate to say with all seriousness, and yet as I reflect on this, I was serious in many ways as somewhere deep inside, I really wasnt sure how I would go on without him. The real joke I guess was that I never really thought it would come to pass.

l lost him quite suddenly and unexpectedly. Everything I knew, all crumbled around me. It was hard not just to lose him but also life as I knew it. The humor, how he would sit at the couch, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, his kindness, his blue car in the driveway, the way he’d joke and play videogames while eating cereal with water (not milk because water was cheaper and the apocalypse could always come). All of this and more, this life, this love, everything I had known to be true, all gone, all crushed. No more.

I couldnt help but feel that it was all my fault. In some ways it was and in some ways it wasnt. All I can say is that life is tragic sometimes and much more complicated than any of us can really comprehend. To lose someone you love and to think to all the times you had wished you had just done this, or said that instead, or if only you hadnt gone over here, or if only you had realized sooner that the most important thing in your life while you were annoyed at the waiter for bringing the wrong dish to your table, was this moment here with the person you loved. This moment, the only moment that really exists. That life was never about any of the other stuff at all, all the stuff I thought was so pressing, none of it had actually mattered.

Grief taught me that life is fleeting.

It taught me that a lot of the things I had thought mattered, never did.

It taught me to appreciate people while they are here in your life.

It taught me to be more present.

It taught me to take risks.

That you think you know everything but in reality you may know nothing.

It taught me that I could lose everything and still survive. And that the part of me that survived was the best part of me, as all the rest of me died; only the best part of me could make it through.

That it was never about the big milestones but actually the small moments in life, like the way his hand felt in mine, his coat in the closet.

It taught me that everything is impermanent. Not in a bad way, but in a way that makes me feel grateful for the simple things.

It taught me to notice the small things.

It taught me that love doesn’t have to end.

It taught me that love forgives, not only the person but also yourself. That it hopes. That it longs. That it perseveres. That its okay if it perseveres. That it expands you. That it is safe to love as it is one of our greatest gifts as a human, which is to experience and express it. That love takes courage. That it is brave. That love connects. That love is related to joy. That joy is something felt that seems to go much deeper than happiness. That love can know sorrow. That sorrow can give way to hope. And that there is no shame in any of this because this is really what it means to be human, this is really what it means to love. To know darkness but to also know light. To know hard times but to also know good. To experience sadness but to continue loving, hoping, persisting, trusting that one day it will all make sense, that one day you will be okay again. To bring this love with you wherever you go so that it is felt by the person across from you, even if you dont know them. That grief breaks your heart open and that it will be okay.

Hi everyone,

This year, I am experimenting with an aspect of my life, which is faith. I’ve always felt a strong calling to write but been very afraid to really pursue it. When I examine this fear, I’m not sure what it’s really about. Perhaps it’s that I’m afraid my writing won’t result in anything, that it wouldn’t actually mean anything, or perhaps I’m afraid of facing myself.

It’s probably some combination of all of the above.

Therefore this year I have resolved to practice faith through writing. I dont know where this is going but I am going to do it anyway out of a faith that it could lead to something meaningful.

Faith is something I discovered during my season of grief.

Prior to experiencing loss, I felt that faith was for people that did not really see reality as it is, that it was something borne out of naïveté. I guess I would have been described as an atheist.

Ironically, through my journey with grief I now have a strong feeling that faith is all there really is, that there couldn’t be anything more real. Losing the person that was the center of my universe revealed to me that everything in this life is impermanent, that any sense of permanence and stability I had were illusions. Not in a bad way, not in an evil way, not in a sad way, just in a way that is. I realized that the only thing I really have in this lifetime is whatever is internal to me — that anything could happen to me externally but no one could take away my response to it all, my perspective, my faith.

Also, something really happens when your world and sense of self is crushed which is that if you let yourself and life as you know it be crushed and open yourself up to it, you will find that something ultimately remains. This part of you with all its soft edges, this uncrushed part, this part, the part that keeps hoping, keeps loving, keeps living, it is the best part.

People learn to survive in different ways and this was mine — embracing loss and taking a leap of faith.

Faith that it was all leading to something. Faith that something good could come out of this. Faith that there was a reason to keep going. Faith that everything would. ultimately be okay. Faith that if I picked myself up and put one foot in front of the other each day, that something new would emerge, and that this something was worth going on for.

The best way I can describe it is that it was as if I was hiking and the trail became very difficult, in a way I could never have even imagined or conceived of. I reached a point in the trail where there was no where remaining to go, but to take a step of faith. It would be as if someone asked me to walk off a cliff. It was frightening and made no sense and a part of me died in that process, but a part of me survived and lived by faith. Although I am hiking it is not with my legs anymore but my spirit as it turns out that is the only way I was able to continue the journey.

What has helped you with your journey when the trail has gotten impossibly difficult and hard?

A depression came on very suddenly. Perhaps it is this time of year with the holidays and constant travel — the grayness and limited sunlight of it all. Or perhaps it is that this time of year reminds me so much of Brian.

Brian — it feels a bit strange to think of him now. It has been six years or so since I last saw him and I think that even if I were to see him today, I wouldn’t know what to say. There was a time when I thought of him each day, but time has really healed the feelings of loss and grief and although they are still there, they are much more muted, faded, like my memories of him.

It’s funny but I feel like at some point there was a crossroads I took, which was to either keep the memories alive and to continue holding on to the grief as it was the only connection I really had left of him. Or to let the pain go and trust that this would lead to something greater. I was deeply afraid of letting the pain go; after all, it was all I felt I really had left. But that is what I ultimately decided to do.

It was like an experiment — like, what if I just let myself look back on my life and focus on all the love that was there, rather than all the pain? What if I focused on the opportunity I had, the years I did have, the happy moments and the great fortune and privilege I had in having that time, rather than all the things I wish I had said, done differently, all those moments lost, all the small moments I now missed?

I’m making it sound easy but like everyone knows, it wasn’t. It was like learning to walk all over again, it was like learning how to live all over again, it was like coming out of a surgery and waking up and realizing one of my limbs had been lost and being asked to walk again.

I decided to walk, but it took all the courage and strength I had. Sometimes it is hard to understand how hard it can really be for a person to just exist and to go on from day to day, not knowing what the future holds and all that was, now lost.

I’ve been walking for a while and I have to say that ultimately, it was worth it to let go of all the pain and to focus on the love that was there. The grief is still here, just transformed. I am now someone who is better able to flow with things, I feel a great sense of gratitude for small things which I never noticed before. I am a lot more forgiving. Grief has been humbling. You think you know everything. Grief makes you realize you know nothing, you are only just beginning.

My difficulties now lies in that in walking sometimes on this path, I have gone to the other extreme perhaps of avoiding, running, forgetting. Forgetting was once so hard to do and now it almost feels a bit automatic. It is all such a difficult balance and process sometimes I think it is a bit like surfing, the waves are always changing and what is needed in this journey is always shifting.

Lately I have resolved to write a little more in order to stop running, to sit with myself and to remember where I have been and what it all meant. It is almost hard to come up and go to this place again and yet I feel I must, but now in a different way.

What has your journey with grief been like?

Hi everyone,

I wanted to thank you for reading and for being readers over the years. I have written very sparingly and there are numerous reasons for this, including that I started up a mental health practice and all the various things that it brought, but probably the primary thing that has kept me from writing has been fear — a fear of facing myself.

I have kept myself busy, productive with this and that and the practice is now successful and that is all true, but underneath it all, I think productivity and constantly doing, doing, doing has been a form of coping for me, of running for me, of running from myself.

Not only of running from myself, but also pain. Although the pain of grief has subsided, some of the deeper pain, or other types of griefs have never fully been processed.

Writing has always been my truth, the thing that has kept me sane, the thing that has helped me make sense of it all. And yet over the years, it become someplace scary. Maybe because to write would mean facing the pain?

In not sure as Im still piecing out all the complexities of my psyche together, but my new years' resolution is to take my writing more seriously. And I really have you to thank you for this.

Yes, you. You, dear reader, who emails me and leaves comments. You dont know how much these comments and letters mean to me. They mean so much to me because they show me that my writing is not going into a void. That somewhere, someone is connecting with this, that there is a connection here somehow. That through darkness and through pain, something meaningful can emerge.

Ive learned that I have a lot of trouble writing into voids. Im going to be writing a new project and holding myself accountable. The project will be on personal experience with grief, mental health, suicidality, light and hope. For those of you who are long term readers, you may know that I have been diagnosed with manic depression. For those who are newer readers, now you know! I havent quite figured out how best to address that part, but it will be incorporated somehow because it would be impossible not to. Because you see, writing is my true north, keeping a clear perspective and voice through it all - through the confusing nature of pain, a light is found.

Would you be interested in being a beta reader for this new project? I will continue writing on this blog, but with this new project, I will be writing with a different intensity and intention - the intention of publishing and putting together a book that people can read one day. I will need beta readers. I will need people who I know are reading and interested. Most importantly, I will need encouragement. The encouragement is simply to know that you are reading and interested.

If you are interested in being a beta reader, please let me know. For this new project, I will be writing in a private password protected blog. I would encourage thoughts and feedback from a community of readers, you may get to see what others say. Again, the writing will be with the intention of publishing it one day. I am scared because all my writing thus far has been under a pen name. With this new project, I am thinking it will not; instead it will be under my real name. I would like to come out as a psychologist and writer discussing at a personal level how to navigate times of darkness and grief. I will need some help, support and accountability. But most importantly connection. If you are interested, please email me at ellie@eleorahan.com and I will send you the information on the private blog.

Thank you for reading and most importantly, happy new year to you all. There is a lot of darkness in life but there is also light. Times of grief are a season we each go through at some point in our lives. Please know that it will all make sense one day, that love is never lost and you will have that feeling of home again, and that all this pain is here to show you the way.

Best wishes

Ellie

Hi everyone,

I wanted to thank you for reading and for being readers over the years. I have written very sparingly and there are numerous reasons for this, including that I started up a mental health practice and all the various things that it brought, but probably the primary thing that has kept me from writing has been fear — a fear of facing myself.

I have kept myself busy, productive with this and that and the practice is now successful and that is all true, but underneath it all, I think productivity and constantly doing, doing, doing has been a form of coping for me, of running for me, of running from myself.

Not only of running from myself, but also pain. Although the pain of grief has subsided, some of the deeper pain, or other types of griefs have never fully been processed.

Writing has always been my truth, the thing that has kept me sane, the thing that has helped me make sense of it all. And yet over the years, it become someplace scary. Maybe because to write would mean facing the pain?

In not sure as Im still piecing out all the complexities of my psyche together, but my new years' resolution is to take my writing more seriously. And I really have you to thank you for this.

Yes, you. You, dear reader, who emails me and leaves comments. You dont know how much these comments and letters mean to me. They mean so much to me because they show me that my writing is not going into a void. That somewhere, someone is connecting with this, that there is a connection here somehow. That through darkness and through pain, something meaningful can emerge.

Ive learned that I have a lot of trouble writing into voids. Im going to be writing a new project and holding myself accountable. The project will be on personal experience with grief, mental health, suicidality, light and hope. For those of you who are long term readers, you may know that I have been diagnosed with manic depression. For those who are newer readers, now you know! I havent quite figured out how best to address that part, but it will be incorporated somehow because it would be impossible not to. Because you see, writing is my true north, keeping a clear perspective and voice through it all - through the confusing nature of pain, a light is found.

Would you be interested in being a beta reader for this new project? I will continue writing on this blog, but with this new project, I will be writing with a different intensity and intention - the intention of publishing and putting together a book that people can read one day. I will need beta readers. I will need people who I know are reading and interested. Most importantly, I will need encouragement. The encouragement is simply to know that you are reading and interested.

If you are interested in being a beta reader, please let me know. For this new project, I will be writing in a private password protected blog. I would encourage thoughts and feedback from a community of readers, you may get to see what others say. Again, the writing will be with the intention of publishing it one day. I am scared because all my writing thus far has been under a pen name. With this new project, I am thinking it will not; instead it will be under my real name. I would like to come out as a psychologist and writer discussing at a personal level how to navigate times of darkness and grief. I will need some help, support and accountability. But most importantly connection. If you are interested, please email me at ellie@eleorahan.com and I will send you the information on the private blog.

Thank you for reading and most importantly, happy new year to you all. There is a lot of darkness in life but there is also light. Times of grief are a season we each go through at some point in our lives. Please know that it will all make sense one day, that love is never lost and you will have that feeling of home again, and that all this pain is here to show you the way.

Best wishes

Ellie

PSI Chocolate, 1.0 g

I remember why I first started to write. I was around 14 or so. It helped me make sense of myself back then. It was lonely growing up in that house. I was kind of a black sheep. Moody, depressed, and irritable. Back then emotions were felt and difficult to put into words. Over time I’ve found the words, but the original emotion sometimes becomes harder to find — lost, forgotten.

Writing helped me find my voice when I didn’t have one. I didn’t have one because I hadn’t developed it yet. But another reason I didn’t have one was because I just grew up feeling pretty unseen. The home I grew up in was unhappy and filled with conflict. Alliances were formed. I was grouped in the alliance with my dad. It was a lonely alliance. Filled with criticisms, cynicism, thoughts like you’re always making mistakes, I can’t believe you said that, etc. He was difficult but trying his best.

I feel sad for that kid. She was just scared and alone and trying to figure stuff out. I think writing gave her a sense of connection to others. It helped process and make sense of the world. It also somehow brought a sense of hope and comfort. Through writing, I discovered something inside myself. A light. The thinnest, smallest ray of it.

That kid was really sad and at one point really wanted to die. At some point, she got really serious about that. Writing was a reason to live. It is what helped to discover the light, but also to follow it, to put one foot in front of the other in some of the hardest times. I think I figured back then that if I was in the pit of hell at least it could be documented, and perhaps someone would understand.

Someone eventually did; I ended up marrying him. Of course, as longtime readers know, it didn’t work out and there was another period in which something different was needed to find the light. Something bigger than myself.

With writing, I’ve never found it fully satisfying to simply write in a private journal. Somehow it helps to know others are reading. I think this is because of that feeling of connection, that feeling of discovery, that as I am writing, I am connecting, not just with myself but you. There is an authenticity here, a realness. This realness can only be discovered through time writing and connecting in oneself, and with someone relating back. It seems like such a simple thing — writing — but it is really what led to me writing this and to you reading this in this moment now. When you really think about it, I find this really beautiful.

Sometimes we think of having to interact physically with someone to impart something to them, but I think that the truth is that connection can transcend this — whether through words, art, a piece, etc — there is some transmittal of emotion and mood, and then ultimately, connection.

Ultimately, perhaps this is what life is about — this sense of connection. To ourselves, to who we really are, to our true selves, to others, to nature, to something larger, to the essence of life itself. It is this longing to know that our lives matter and are part of something greater.

I guess that was a long winded way of saying, thank you for reading. I don’t know who you are or what you’ve been through, but I’m grateful for you. You didn’t even know it but your existence kept me going all these years. So you see, we matter in ways we don’t even see or know.

It started with a link to Johns Hopkins Center for Psychedelic and Consciousness Research.

A friend had mentioned that psychedelics such as magic mushrooms were being decriminalized in certain states.

Curious about this, I began to research this topic. I couldn’t understand why it would be decriminalized. I am a psychologist and what others might describe as straight-laced. All my life, I’ve done everything by the book. After college, I went to grad school, after grad school, I developed a profession, etc. I’d never done drugs before and I don’t even drink alcohol, ever.

However, in my research, I discovered that researchers at Johns Hopkins are conducting clinical trials to examine the effects of psychedelics (LSD, psilocybin, MDMA) to explore their therapeutic effects on a wide range of concerns.

These clinical trials have shown a single dose of psilocybin, the active ingredient in magic mushrooms, to be effective in treating addiction; treatment-resistant depression; and existential distress, depression, and anxiety caused by end-of-life/terminal illness.

This research has found that:

following psilocybin administration, people reported significant reductions in depression, anxiety, reconciliation with death, reconnection to life and emotional well being

effects were found after even 1 dose (though many seem to include a second dose)

limited serious adverse effects with proper preparation and support

effects last over time

As anyone who takes antidepressants or any other variety of psychiatric drugs can attest to, the above research findings of psilocybin are groundbreaking. With psychiatric drugs, there are a range of side effects. You must take it every day. They are not necessarily effective. Many times you have to take drugs in combination.

With psilocybin, effects are seen with 1 dose, and these results persist over time.

The FDA has now classified psilocybin as a ‘breakthrough therapy’. Companies are currently conducting clinical trials to try to develop it as a therapeutic.

I can’t explain it, but I felt really drawn to this body of work. I read everything I could on it. There are resources out there, but I found them to be limited. Much of it was also underground, with trip reports of people who were heavily part of drug culture. Instead, what I was seeking was to hear from every day people such as myself, with none to limited experience with drugs, genuinely seeking a therapeutic to help with significant psychological pain.

As many of you may remember, I suffer from bipolar/manic depression, which I write about here, at www.bipolarstrong.com. It is hard to describe what it is like living with a condition like this, but to give you an idea, approximately 20-60% of individuals diagnosed with bipolar attempt suicide at least 1 time in their lives.

It is a difficult condition to live with, with lows so dark that you feel that you would be doing the world a favor by dying, where dying feels deserved, where the pain is so great that it feels that death would bring relief. Although I live a fulfilling life where anyone looking in would never guess my struggle with this, and despite having moved through grief to a place of acceptance, it is tempered by a heavy weight I carry with some days worse than others.

So I went and obtained magic mushrooms. At the local store, it came in the form of a chocolate bar. This was a nice way to consume them for the first time, as I have heard that they are not very tasty (magic mushrooms grow on cow patties!).

Set and setting are critically important and prior to my trip, I set an intention, which was to search within me and to remove any of my emotional blocks to love.

I will write about the specific experience in a future post, but it was an incredibly significant experience. Definitely one of the most powerful experiences of my life. I saw things as they actually were, as my life as it actually was. I released a whole lifetimes worth of pain.

The next day, I felt groggy, but I also felt… new. I felt lighter. I felt free. I felt healed. I felt well. A level of wellness I didn’t know was possible. This sounds odd, but I feel as if an essential ingredient needed for my brain was provided. I felt as if I were a broken down car, that has now received oil, the gears move much more smoothly. There is now a greater sense of ease, a greater sense of serenity. A feeling that everything is unfolding as it is meant to. That things are hard but they are also okay. That I am okay. That everything that happened is beyond me, that it was never just mine to hold. Memories of the past come to me, things I havent thought of for so long — they used to fill me with grief, but I now just feel a sense of happiness and contentment for having experienced them.

I feel transformed.

It’s scary to go out on a limb and share my experiences, but its my hope that my sharing this story and resources in future posts can help others too. There is limited research on how it affects people with grief or people with manic depression. There is also limited research on the exact therapeutic dosing and frequency, though increasing research seems to be examining these questions such as those related to microdosing. There is work now being done to examine its effects on trauma, PTSD, Alzheimers, and addiction to opioids. I suspect that this research will show it to be efficacious and that it will be provided as a medication in the future. If so, this would be transformative. Before it was restricted, it was a sacred medicine. It is a sacred medicine and should be treated as such. When taking it, one can’t help but understand that it is sacred, powerful to the soul.

If you are interested in learning more, I will write a future post on resources. I also encourage you to check out the current clinical trials at Johns Hopkins if you are interested in participating. If you are uninterested in reading about psychedelics (which are a very different topic from grief which is what I have primarily focused my blog on up to this point!) please feel free to unsubscribe.

Do you have any experiences with psychedelics? If so, how did it go? What are your thoughts on psychedelics as therapeutics? Thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: Psychedelics are illegal in many countries. Their possession can carry severe criminal penalties. None of this post constitutes medical advice or should be construed as a recommendation to use psychedelics. There are serious legal, psychological, and physical risks.

Grief has really weighed on me over the past few years. It lifted naturally over time, but I would have to say that experimenting with lucid dreaming and different states of consciousness has helped with deeper dimensions of the healing process for me.

I didn’t realize how much I had been weighed down by grief over the years. I was generally fine and adjusted to my new life and reality.

But my explorations have led to feelings of greater peace and acceptance. For the first time in my life, I am able to think of past memories (vacations, happy memories and moments) without a haze of sadness or sorrow. Interestingly, I am also able to access memories that I had long since forgotten. When these memories from the past come across my mind, I now feel a sense of contentment for having experienced them. It feels gentle, natural. I feel whole again. I feel lighter.

I can’t describe it any other way but that I feel well.

This doesn’t invalidate my experience of grief or mean that it was bad to grieve; I wouldn’t change that experience or want to remove my experience of loss. It just means that these methods have helped me to process the grief in a deeper way, one in which any blocks to love and life that they may have caused feel as if they have been lifted and removed.

There are two ways in which I have explored consciousness. The first method is through lucid dreaming and the other method is through psychedelics (mushrooms). A lot of emerging research has shown that even 1 dose of psilocybin can alleviate depression, anxiety, trauma. There is work that shows it is effective for grief.

I will discuss this more in a future post, but it has simply been life changing.

I’m not sure if it would help other individuals, but I thought I would share my experiences in case it did.

I know it sounds slightly insane to take psychedelic to help with the treatment of grief, but it was so much deeper than that. From these experiences, I now understand that there is much more to life than what we see. And that everything is okay and is working together as it should. That there is life beyond this one.

—

I found lucid dreaming to be great preparation for taking psychedelics.

This is because in the process of lucid dreaming, you learn how to be more curious about life and various states of mind. Instead of getting freaked out by monsters or frightening situations in dreams, you are coached to approach them with love and to ask what it is that they are seeking or trying to tell you.

This attitude of openness, presence, curiosity, and intention prepares one well for psychedelics, but is also great practice for waking life as well.

I’ve read several books on lucid dreaming at this time, and my favorite book on Lucid Dreaming is “Llewellyn’s Complete Book of Lucid Dreaming, A Comprehensive Guide to Promote Creativity, Overcome Sleep Disturbances & Enhance Health and Wellness” by Dr. Clare Johnson.

It’s the most detailed book I could find and it is one that is based on research yet written in a way that is deeply meaningful and accessible. It discusses different ways to practice and cultivate lucid dreaming, and these are the methods I use for my own practice.

My favorite technique is the WILD technique; this is where you naturally transition to being awake to being awake in your dreams, training your body to fall asleep while your mind stays awake. This page has a really good explanation of the technique, but essentially, after 4-6 hours of sleep (for example, this is ideal for instances when you wake up naturally in the middle of the night), you lie your body physically very still and begin to observe the natural hypnogogia (sounds, colors, images) that appear in your vision behind your eyelids. You may feel the effects of sleep paralysis — relax into it because it means a lucid dream is coming! You will then find yourself inside a dream, aware and lucid.

Other techniques involve looking for ‘dream signs’ while you are awake. Dream signs are things like getting into the habit of counting the number of fingers on your hand during the day; the reason for this is your hand often morphs in dreams, and so if you do this in a dream you will realize you are dreaming and become lucid. Other dream signs involve rereading the sentence you just read in a book (in dreams, the sentence morphs), jumping up in the air (in dreams, you float), using these methods can help you realize you are in a dream.

Lets say you are lucid — well now what?

You can do so many things while in a lucid dream — you can fly, you can talk to dream characters, you can ask the dream questions such as “What is the meaning of my life?” and you can see your loved one again.

To do so, while in your waking state, it helps to prepare for lucid dreams by forming a strong intention of what it is that you would want to do in a lucid dream and visualizing it and thinking about it a lot throughout the day and right before you go to sleep.

My intentions have generally been to remove the blocks to love within me so that I can become the person I am fully meant to be and can love more fully.

What intentions might you have? What would you want to do if you could lucid dream? Would you wish to see your loved one again and what would you tell them?

Dear readers — thank you for reading this post. it means so much to me. If you enjoyed it, I invite you to connect with me through the comments below and to share the post with someone who you think might also find it helpful in living with grief. You might also find my book, Grieving the Loss of a Love: How to Embrace Grief to Find True Hope and Healing After a Divorce, Breakup, or Death helpful to read or to pass along to others. Thank you again.