On essential oils, imaginary friends and other technologies for dealing with grief
if you luze your mind, don’t expect flowers
How do you process loss dear reader?
Luze a quarter, things are no big deal. When you luze your keys, panic sets in quickly. I’m certain you know the feeling, dear reader. Your palms start sweating and mind swirling.
Keys only get lost when you’re in a hurry. Time accelerates, and before you know it, your home looks like a mob of angry crack heads have sacked the place in search of a dime.
What happens though when your loss is more significant?
Given how intense one’s state can become when we luze something small but significant like keys or a wallet, it’s no wonder luzing a spouse or family member can be so disorienting.
** A note on spelling dear reader. I’m sick of spelling. I’m a man with a couple of degrees and by the ripe young age of 53 I’ve managed to learn the difference between there, their and they’re. I’ve also mostly mastered your and you’re.
I have not been able to master loose and lose. I’ve hereby given up and will now, for the rest of my life, spell a word relating to loss with a ‘u’ and a ‘z’.
And it’s ‘Zee’, not ‘Zed’.
Zee, sounds like weee, and we all have fun when we shout weee, unless of course you’re pissing into the wind and your shoes get covered with a wee bit of wee from your wee wee.
If my grammar offends you, Shaky Sphere invented words too. Respect my foolish genius or get lost - preferably to where sharks swim.
So, you might luze your mind in frustration with my spelling.
If you do?
No one is going to send you flowers.
If that rant seems like a non-sequitur, congratulations!
This is what deep grief feels like when you’ve lost someone important.
And I’m not talking about your iPhone here - though wouldn’t it be nice to have ‘find my iPhone’ for a dead loved one. I’m not sure how they could make a bunch of ashes and dust go beep beep beep.
Things that one might think are nonsense make more sense when in grief.
Imaginary friends become super important when facing big loss.
Your therapist for example. They are an imaginary friend.
You pay them and they try to be the best support possible.
They listen and allow and don’t try to change you.
You might even believe they’re your friend.
They’re not. You pay them. They likely like you. And I like anyone who gives me lots of money to sit around and drink coffee.
Some find religion, pray and discover their spirituality.
Religion is a technology to help us process that which is beyond our capacity to understand. It’s a way to navigate the unknowable.
Perhaps the most impactful tool I’ve seen to provide peace when someone luzes someone dear to them has a very specific size.
It’s not small. It’s not large.
It’s a medium.
(Now say that last line with an Italian accent)
Right?
I’ve seen so many people find peace with themselves and the loss of their loved one by visiting a medium.
I don’t believe in the work of mediums.
To me, it’s snake oil.
And?
Funny enough, this snake oil seems to be very effective.
A typical post-medium visit disclosure typically went like this:
I saw my husband. He was ill for years. He suffered so long. He told me he’s ok now. He’s at peace. He told me to find peace too. I wouldn’t have believed it but the medium knew very specific things about both of us. I have no idea how she knew it, but she did.
A good medium knows stuff. They know how to be just specific enough to get their guest to believe that they are in contact with the spirit world.
In reality?
They might be.
And?
They might not. It may just be a mass hallucination caused by too much essential oil mixing with crystals off gassing.
At the same time?
I’ve never seen so many people go from such distress to such peace so quickly.
As you know, dear reader, I’m a curious man. I had to explore this myself.
I went to see a medium.
She told me that I was an executioner in a past life.
That was shocking
After recovering from the shock, I asked her Was I any good at it?
She replied: You were at first. You eventually got fired though.
What happened, I asked.
You performed a decapitation a day early, she told me, that job wasn’t one for trying to get ahead of your workflow.
She continued: That wasn’t the real reason though. You refused to use an axe. You built the world’s first guillotine. The authorities didn’t like it. I guess in some professions it doesn’t pay to be ahead of your time.
My next foolish question: Did anyone mourn me?
The medium just shook her head. Even then, they gave you no respect. The village children used you head as a football.
I guess even then, I was ahead of the game.
So, dear reader, Whether you luze your keys, your mind, or someone you love, just remember:
We all scramble, panic, and sometimes invent imaginary friends (or pay them by the hour).
Maybe you’ll find comfort in a medium, a prayer, or just shouting “weee!” into the wind.
In the end, the world keeps spinning—even if your head’s rolling down the street, getting booted around by village children.
Stay sunny, you fools.
And if you ever luze your way, just know: you’re in good company.
