Perhaps it’s because of my work as a funeral celebrant or because of the different times I’ve walked the path of grief, but I find the unsolicited serving up of platitudes can demean a fellow human’s feelings.
Platitudes are the words we wear when we don’t know what else to say. Spiritually, platitudes are a paradox. On one hand, they act as thought-terminating clichés that bypass empathy and silence the suffering of the moment. They serve the speaker of those words, not the recipient. The ego helps us to ward off the uncomfortable. Retreating from someone else’s pain takes us away from being present.
We speak platitudes to hide the raw edges of grief or pain. And yet, beneath their veneer lies a universal truth—a desperate human desire to connect.
We offer them like sacred talismans:
Everything happens for a reason
Time heals all wounds
It is what it is
Perhaps platitudes were formed on the bedrock of collective human wisdom or even survival? We repeat them because we sense the seed of the universal human stories within them. The desire to connect with another isn’t the problem, of course, it’s the mindless recitation of words that don’t help another to heal.
To walk a mindful path, let us swap the easy answer for the heavy, beautiful act of sitting with someone in the dark. Unsure how?
Instead of saying They are in a better place perhaps you could say:
I am holding space
for the massive absence left behind.
Everything happens for a reason dismisses a person’s pain. How about saying:
This is deeply unfair,
and you do not have to find a lesson in it.
God doesn’t give you anything you can’t handle does not help a person. Why not support them with:
You shouldn’t have to be this strong right now.
I am here in the weakness with you.
When someone’s future is uncertain, you might be tempted to soothe things over with words like: It will all work out in the end. Or, you could enter into presence and say:
I don’t know how this unfolds,
but you will not walk through the unknown alone.
If you find yourself in the company of someone who is suffering deeply, instead of telling them to be positive or cheer up or look on the bright side, you could say:
I am ready to sit with you in the dark
for as long as it takes.
Sent with warmth and compassion from my writing desk in the wild fells of Cumbria,
Veronika Sophia Robinson
Author, Novelist, & Weaver of Word Medicine
If this blog touched your heart, you are warmly invited to step further into my literary sanctuary. Explore the complete collection of fiction and non-fiction books at Starflower Press, or discover the living map of your soul with a personal reading at The Oracle. My celebrant training and celebrant masterclasses can be found at Heart-led Celebrants.
