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Welcome to the Lucidesse podcast

where we explore everything 

because I believe in the infinite, unbounded potential within each of us. 

This is Shelly, a fellow seeker, 

and lover of life’s mysteries. 

I invite you to join me, 

and explore the depths of your wisdom.

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Today I'm going to share one of the most challenging and scary things I’ve ever done, which turned out to be an immense blessing in my life.

I’ll be using two examples, one romantic and the other professional.

To begin, I’d like you to join me in a romantic scenario where we both play the first person “i”

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I am committing to a partnership with the person who is the love of my life. 

I’m committing to be with them through ups and downs, 

I’m taking vows that will hold and keep us together, 

through the beginning, 

and the middle, 

and the end. 

Which means, 

I’m committing to say goodbye.

I may say goodbye at the end of our lives together, 

or I may choose to say goodbye sooner, 

or my partner may choose to say goodbye to me.

In any case, I commit to say goodbye,

I commit to close our partnership with love, respect, gratitude, 

possibly a closure of heartbreak, of tears, and sorrow.

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The notion of a closure ceremony began a few years ago as I was walking along a beach. 

I was soothing old wounds from a fresh heartache, 

when I heard a voice inside me, 

“You need to successfully end a romance, 

the way you end a romance is the way you begin the next one.” 

In that instant I knew I must experience the healthy ending of a romantic relationship – an ending of love, of respect, of honor – 

or I’d never begin a romance that way. 

So there I was, walking along the beach, dragging old, unspoken goodbyes like lead weights from my heart, 

finally understanding that decades into my life, 

I had never experienced true closure.

I thought I had said goodbye.

I mean, we said it was over, and his stuff was gone from the closet, 

the fridge didn’t smell the same, and my bed was amazingly large, 

I even signed a decree that said divorce, 

but that wasn’t true closure for me, I didn't say goodbye. 

As I stared at the ocean, I considered the million reasons I hadn’t said goodbye to old lovers.

Maybe yours sound similar to mine? 

They betrayed me, they lied, they’re mean, they don’t care about me,

 they caused me so much pain, 

or, we grew apart – I don’t need to say goodbye.

 These million reasons left me heavy with unexpressed loss, grief, and pain. 

I didn’t know how to release these so I unwittingly shouldered them onto my next relationship, 

and was then mystified and horrified to see each new relationship repeat the patterns of my past. 

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Not long after this day on the beach, a woman told me a story.

She and her husband of 13 years invited all their wedding guests, plus the person who married them, to a second ceremony. 

Only this ceremony was the ending of their vows. 

The woman told me that many of the original guests, as well as the person who married them, came to their second ceremony.

These people witnessed the couple they had loved for over a decade, end their relationship. They shared in the loss, the confusion, the pain, the love, and the need for closure. 

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When I heard of her ceremony I wondered how many of my wedding guests would have returned to witness my divorce nearly 20 years later…

This question intrigues me because it challenges my hasty answers to the following:

What is commitment?

What is support, and who or what do I truly support?

Why do I attend ceremonies I don’t believe in, and won’t support?

Does my attendance at ceremonies imply something?

What is community? 

What is family?

Why do I gather to witness beginnings and then flee from their endings,

 when people need me most?

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I’m still wrangling with these questions, and I might do so for this entire lifetime because I don’t want to turn a blind-eye upon things I value

Commitment, union, family, community, support, ceremony, beginnings, and yes, endings. These are sacred to me. They give my life meaning, plus they are my greatest teachers.

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I’d like to share what I’ve learned since I first considered a closure ceremony but before continuing, please set aside the rare circumstance when an adult is 100% innocent, 

for most of us, we play a role in both the success and the demise of our relationships, even if our role is to play the victim. 

I’ve played the victim and I see now, it allowed me to walk away without saying goodbye, but as I said, this got me nowhere. 

The whole idea of a closure ceremony is to get somewhere, 

somewhere new,

to restore joy, beauty, wonder, and awe in lives. 

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For me to do this, I need to a healthy goodbye, 

and not just to relationships in my past.

I need to always say goodbye, 

to those who come into my future,

and to those who may be present now.

I need to thank people for the good times, 

even when I’m sorry for the bad times. 

I need to tell people how much I love them, 

even when they hurt me, or I hurt them. 

I need to know people care for me, and tell them that I care too. 

Even though it’s over. 

I need a physical representation of our ending, 

a tangible release of our shared dream. 

I need to uncouple our hearts and our lives, 

just as we coupled them. 

I need to honor our courageous attempt at love.

And for me, this requires time and space to say goodbye, to grieve, to accept the loss.

I need to end so I can begin again, 

for the very first time. 

𝅘𝅥𝅲𝅘𝅥𝅲𝅘𝅥𝅲

Sp, how could I possibly fall deeply, madly in love while knowing I need the romance to end with a healthy closure?

I couldn't, 

so I unconsciously and artfully tucked this closure ceremony deep in my psyche and forgot about it. 

Then off I went. 

Falling beautifully, madly, and deeply, in love. 

All went well for a while, but the day came when this relationship needed an ending.

It was then that I remembered my day on the beach, 

and knew I needed a closure ceremony.

So I crafted a delicate process from many arenas. 

Some from indigenous rituals I had been taught, 

others from neuroscience and the power of mirroring, 

some from my need for authentic connection,

 and others from the ancient tradition of grief as a healer. 

I share my ideas so you can assemble a closure ceremony of your own, 

should you find the need.

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There are six aspects of my closure ceremony:

First: Write Letters

Second: Choose Location

Third: Invite Attendees

Fourth: Read Letters

Fifth: Final Rituals

Sixth: Say Goodbye

Let’s begin with the first aspect, write letters. 

Each person writes a letter to the other person.

And not just any old letter. 

What’s in the letter matters. 

There are three main elements of my letter, 

gratitude, 

release,

and well-wishes. 

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I begin my letter with gratitude for the other person. 

I write about all the goodness they brought into my life. 

It can be difficult for me to write these words so I remember the beginning, 

the time before all the pain, the betrayal, the confusion, 

the hurting each other, 

the growing apart.

I remember the person I fell in love with. 

I know that person is  still here, somewhere in all this, 

and they’re worthy of a respectful goodbye, 

worthy of a release in love, 

worthy of true closure.  

Just like I’m worthy of it, 

and not only worthy of it, 

but at the time, 

desperately in need of it. 

And while writing my letter, I dig deep, 

deeper than my pain, 

to find appreciation, true gratitude,

and open-hearted love. 

Once I’ve written all my gratitude, I write a release.

I release the other person from their commitment to me, and our union. 

I release them fully. 

They are free of mind, body, and spirit. 

I complete the letter with well-wishes for their future. 

These are not specific, I simply wish them wellness, health, and goodness.

Here I suggest you leave any well-wishes out that aren’t genuine, 

only include those straight from the heart.

I am careful of what I say, 

this isn’t the time for me to be right, nor make amends,

this is the time to say goodbye.

It takes time for me to write the letter,  

a few weeks is not so long when dealing with my human heart. 

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Once the letters are completed, the remainder of the ceremony is planned.

I do this because writing the letter changes me, so I’m better able to move forward with the remainder of the ceremony.  

The Second aspect of the closure ceremony is: choose location.

The location may be meaningful to the partnership or it may be neutral. 

The location may have space to burn the original commitments or vows, 

it may be indoors, or an outside location which soothes the process.  

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The third aspect is: invite attendees. 

The closure ceremony may be private, just those in the partnership, 

or you may be surrounded by those who have loved your union and wish to support your release. 

You may choose to invite an intermediary to oversee the healthy ending of your commitment.

It’s important to remember that each closure ceremony is unique, 

the way it looks and is conducted is up to the individuals. 

And determining these aspects with the other person requires gentleness, patience, and relinquishing control. 

The irony of this process is that I often give to the other person what they most desired in the relationship, 

only I do it now, as we conduct our ending.

I’ve done this twice and both times I found myself more amenable to the other person's requests, more forgiving of their shortcomings. 

And of my own.

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Once the letters are written, the location chosen and the attendees present, 

it’s time for the fourth aspect, read letters. 

Each person reads their own letter, 

then they trade letters. 

The person who read second, now reads first,

only now they are reading the other person's letter back to them. 

I find this re-reading very powerful because I hear my words spoken through the voice of the very person I have not been able to find harmony with. 

It can be humbling to hear what I wrote, 

it can be inspiring to hear what I wrote. 

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I suggest you take time to read. 

As slow as either partner needs. 

A closure ceremony may be a great emotional release, 

and it may be far more emotional for one person than the other.

This may be due to the terms of the situation, 

it may be due to a backlog of unhealthy closures that now come to the surface.  

or one partner may express loss in an outward manner. 

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Once the reading is complete, the fifth aspect begins: any final rituals.

 This may include burning the original vows, 

or burning something else, 

blowing out candles, 

or exchanging / returning items,

 items which were given during the relationship,

and now feel appropriate to return.

Whatever the need to experience closure in the physical realm, 

to give hearts and minds tangible proof of the loss, 

and the release.

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The sixth and final aspect is the hardest because there’s really nothing to do. 

Say goodbye. 

This goodbye may be a severing of all relating, 

or it may be a shift in relating.

Either way, it’s goodbye. 

Goodbye to what was, goodbye to the end of a commitment, 

and quite possibly, the death of a dream.

Saying goodbye is confusing to me. 

How is the beginning so innocent, yet the end so painful?

How is the love so large, yet the goodbye so small? 

How is the frustration so high, yet the loss so deep?

𝅘𝅥𝅲𝅘𝅥𝅲𝅘𝅥𝅲

Let’s review where we’ve been, within my closure ceremony.

First: Write Letters

Second: Choose Location

Third: Invite Attendees

Fourth: Read Letters

Fifth: Ritual Endings

And Sixth: Say Goodbye

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My first closure ceremony took hours. 

My partner and I had a lot of love, 

so there was a lot of loss. 

I needed time to feel all the loss.

I needed to cry, 

I needed to pause and let their words sink in, 

and breathe as overwhelming waves of love still crashed about,

and stop to feel the sharp loss of our union.

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The initial reading and the re-reading of the letters were very emotional for me, and took time. These readings revealed a reservoir of grief within me.

It was like I was grieving the loss of many people across many situations.

All the goodbyes that had ended abruptly, all the unhealthy severing, flooded by body.  

I overflowed with confusion, unexpressed grief,

 and living waves of pain.

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Long after the ceremony over, 

memories of this union arose, and I had a terrible, awful desire to look back. 

When I did, I found nothing there. 

I kept forgetting that my new life lay ahead of me. 

But when I tried to rush forward, I couldn’t.

I needed time.

Time to enfold myself inward, 

to grieve, to compost, to learn, 

to open and flow, 

to grow a healthy beginning 

from the seed of a healthy ending.

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My second closure ceremony was both easier and harder.

This one was with a business partner.

 It was easier because the emotional loss was not as deep, 

but it was harder because I struggled to find true gratitude, 

I mostly felt irritation. 

It took some digging but I got past my irritation, and once I did, 

I learned as much from the second closure as the first.

 Namely, that every commitment I make deserves to be honored with an ending, 

a release, a goodbye.  

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Maybe a closure ceremony isn’t for every ending, 

but I find it very helpful in my life, 

and not just in endings. 

Healthy closure is helping me with beginnings,

because I now ask: 

What would it be like to share a closure ceremony with this person?

Do they have the integrity to follow through to the end with me?

 Will they release me with love, and honor me with gratitude?

Will they say goodbye?

Do I have this same integrity for and with this person? 

If the answer is no, I reconsider whether this is the right commitment, 

the right person, the right time? 

If the answer is yes, then I’m willing to be courageous, 

to connect, to create, to build, to love. 

I’m willing to risk with the right person because if we aren’t able to go the distance, 

I know we will say goodbye, 

and in that healthy release, 

we offer each other the hope of a new beginning, 

one of beauty, joy and wonder.

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Beginnings are so sweet, 

which makes it easy to overlook the importance of endings. 

But I’ve found it’s really good to say goodbye, 

it’s in the word, after all. 

 Good Bye.

𝅘𝅥𝅲𝅘𝅥𝅲𝅘𝅥𝅲

With Grace, Gentleness, and Gratitude, 

I bid you farewell.

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Music by JuliusH from Pixabay