The title of this blog post begs the immediate question: “How do we possibly make meaning out of something as incomprehensible, as heartbreaking, as utterly painful as losing someone or something we love?”

“When we pursue the purpose in the pain, we ultimately give ourselves the very purpose we might feel like we lost when we lost a loved one, lost a job, lost the way we thought life was going to turn out.”

It isn’t easy, by any stretch of the imagination; nor does it discount the fact that what you’re going through right now hurts, again, beyond any stretch of the imagination. Whether you lost a loved one, lost a job, or lost the way you thought your life was going to turn out: Your pain is real.

But, making meaning of the loss is one of the few tangible actions that we have in the wake of grief. Sure, we can cry, and we can yell; we can all walk our own pathways to healing. And all of that matters in your unique journey. None of it is right or wrong.

When we pursue the purpose in the pain, we ultimately give ourselves the very purpose we might feel like we lost when we lost a loved one, lost a job, lost the way we thought life was going to turn out. It gives us the chance to sift through what we do know in hopes of understanding what we don’t— a little bit of resolution in the midst of overwhelming uncertainty.

I recently came across the work of Hiroyuki Doi, a Japanese artist who came to his purpose work by way of earth-shattering grief, by way of the John Green book The Anthropocene Reviewed: Essays on a Human-Centered Planet. What I read gave me affirmation in one of the main tenets of my own purpose work as a specialized grief counselor: Creativity in the grief process is just one of the many pathways to making meaning from loss.

Hiroyuki Doi was a renowned chef in Tokyo when he suddenly lost his younger brother to a brain tumor. While Doi had always dabbled with art in some capacity, his true “genius,” as the art world might describe it, came to be from his own process of making meaning from his loss.

He began drawing circles. Hundreds and thousands of tiny circles, over and over. Doi has written that this creative activity provided him with a sense of “relief from the sadness” he felt after losing his brother. At the time, it was something for his hands to do, a way to put emotions on paper, and ultimately, a coping mechanism.

Over time, though, these hundreds and thousands of tiny circles exploded into beautiful images that evoked movement and magnitude. Doi’s circle motif transcended the paper and became a commentary on “the transmigration of the soil, the cosmos, the coexistence of living creatures, human cells, human dialog, and peace.” Needless to say, Doi made a lot of meaning from his grief experience.

You don’t have to make an entire career out of your pain. You don’t even have to create art in order to come to your own truth. Your healing journey will look nothing like Doi’s because it’s your own.

I merely use Doi’s incredible story and art as a lesson in so many fundamental truths about grief:

We all come to the meaning in loss in our own unique ways. Doi picked up a pen and started drawing circles. It seemed so simple and meaningless at the time, but a basic shape we learned in preschool eventually became a representation of the void that is left behind after we lose someone we love. You, too, will come to your own truth in your own way and your own time, and I hope that brings you comfort in this difficult time.
Creation and play remains a valuable part of any healing journey… or just being human for that matter! The human brain craves artistic endeavors and creation. When life throws us circumstances that are difficult, we can provide the slightest bit of solace to our brain and being by giving them exactly what they need.
You will carry on. It might not seem like it right now. But life continues, and so does your love for what was lost.

I hope you find threads of hope in Doi’s story yourself, and eventually, threads of hope in your own story.

Even when finding little wisps of hope is the best we can do, it’s still hope just the same.

References:

In Hiroyuki Doi’s Tiny Circles, Expanding Miniature Universes

The Anthropocene Reviewed: Essays on a Human-Centered Planet by John Green