Suffering is, by its nature, the primary mechanism of change… It somehow presents us with the opportunity to transform into something else, something different, hopefully something better… This change is not something we necessarily seek out; rather, change is often brought to bear upon us, through a shattering or annihilation of our former selves.

Nick Cave & Seán O’Hagan, Faith, Hope and Carnage, p.165

‘Changes’ was a song performed by a long lost band of mine, The Society of the Walking Wounded, and written by our frontman, my best friend Malcolm Long. Malcolm died well over thirty years ago; I still miss him, meet him again in dreams, think of him almost daily.

“Change and decay in all around I see…” in the words of the old hymn. And yet change and ending and decay are necessary for transformation, indispensable for new life. We are frail and temporary creatures, all of us who love, and live. Grief is as inevitable as death itself, and inextricable from love.

The contemplative way is as much a way of understanding this as it is a way of liberation. It is often thought of as liberation from suffering; I would differ. Whatever may be said about the perils of attachment,  truly to love is to know that grieving is as much a part of it as joy; on the contemplative path one learns that not only is it so, but that it is right that it should be so. As Nick Cave points out, suffering is the primary engine of change; life itself is change; suffering is essential to life.

This is not unkind or harsh; the path teaches us that it is not to be fought, or raged against: death is as normal and ultimately beneficial as the fall of leaves in autumn – they are falling fast here now – and in its way as beautiful. The grace of change is being itself, and lies in the hollow of the open ground like a hazel dormouse in her nest of leaves.