Remembering John Welwood, My Teacher and Mentor

"Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process."
~ C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

"You will not 'get over' the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it."
~ Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler, On Grief and Grieving

The book that found me

The words in Perfect Love, Imperfect Relationships spoke to my heart.

Never before had I been pierced so deeply. I needed to learn more about the author.

For readers who don't know him: John Welwood was a psychotherapist and the author of books on relationships and spiritual practice.

John was a pioneer, the grandfather, of East-West psychology. He was inspired at an early age by D.T. Suzuki and Alan Watts, and was a student of the Buddhist teacher Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche. He spent his life pondering the relationship between Buddhist awakening and growth in psychotherapy.

He had a beautiful ability to interweave the deep wisdom of ancient Eastern traditions with modern Western psychology.

Have you ever heard of "spiritual bypassing"?

It's the idea that people use spiritual ideas or practices to avoid unresolved emotional and psychological challenges. John coined the phrase.

I was in the middle of my graduate studies, grasping to make deeper meaning of my chosen path to become a therapist. And there was John's work, in a book assigned for my studies. It really felt as if it had been written just for me.

Turns out, fate would have it.

He was looking for me, too

John lived in Marin, where he led an ongoing group.

And, as if the world had somehow perfectly aligned, he was also looking for me.

I was poor in graduate school, as many of us are. I wanted to join his ongoing group, but I couldn't squeeze a penny out of my pint-sized budget.

I didn't want to miss the chance to sit with John. It had felt too right when I read his book. So I applied to his group and asked about some kind of work-trade.

John called me on Super Bowl Sunday. With a beer in hand, in the bathroom of a random party, I sold myself as a valuable personal assistant, able to tackle anything thrown at me, and blah blah blah, I got the job.

John's assistant had recently moved, and he was looking for a replacement.

Talk about timing.

Writing this now and looking back, I can only imagine what he must have been thinking. This twenty-something chick talking super fast, completely stuck in compensatory identity... Well, we don't know what we don't know.

John was a drug for me

Whenever I sat with John, his presence, his words and his worldly, wise lens cut through all the other bullshit of life. It felt like an altered state he would gently guide me up into.

Be here, now.
Be open, now.
Be awake, now.

Tasting the pleasure of being fully alive, connected and fully accepting of yourself. This is the sweetest nectar. A true offering.

About two years in, the group was working with some edges of pain. I had a visceral sense of something I'd never felt before.

An epiphany!

Pain,
when felt without the story attached,
breaks the heart open.
An open heart
heals pain and changes it.

It began to make sense. The pains in my heart, the defenses and closed-off parts, carried a purpose if I was gentle with them and felt them openly (and not just to torture me).

When given space and fully felt, pain would lead me to openness. It would serve as a guide to the pure, flowing openness my heart so deeply yearned for.

It was magic learning from John

Something that felt impossible, completely and totally overwhelming, suddenly became a gift: an opportunity to wake the f*ck up.

I needed this. (Hence my earlier drug reference.)

We all need this. (We truly do.)

Over the years, John's words made their way into my practice with clients. I have so many beautiful memories of being stuck with a client and channeling John. Feeling his many years of wisdom come through me, we danced through the darkness. He taught me how to meet people simply where they are, in the present, and take them lovingly toward awakening.

Deeper into themselves, so they, too, can access the flow of life.

I remember many clients over the years commenting, "You're so wise."

That is all thanks to my dear, wizardly friend, John Welwood.

He did not want a following

John was exceptionally private.

Part of my job as his assistant all these years was acting as his gatekeeper to the outside world.

Fame came with his many books, and people wanted to know him. He was a celebrity in the psychotherapy world.

But that was not John Welwood. He did not want a cult following.

One of his other students wrote about this so poignantly in a Facebook post:

"John Welwood is who I wanted to be when I grew up, even though he would scoff at any mention of idolization. It isn't what he wanted at all, and that also was a deep lesson for me."

Saying goodbye

And then days became hours.

I received a late-night email from John's wife. The time was near.

At midnight, I entered the hospital.

Entering the hospital room of someone you respect, admire and feel connected to on levels beyond words, knowing this is the last time you will be in their presence in this way, is profound.

Shocking.

Sitting next to John, my heart felt as if it were being ripped apart.

I had never felt so grateful, thankful and humbled. Even though he was not medically conscious, I could feel he was happy I was there. Goodbyes are hard, especially ones like this, but there was a sense of honor and closing.

I left at 3 a.m.

At 9 a.m., John's soul left his body. He took his last breaths wrapped in the arms of his beloved wife, Jennifer.

My job as John's gatekeeper has been a blessing. Honoring John and gently letting those who also loved him know that he is no longer with us is a big task, one I didn't fully realize I'd signed up for until it was happening.

Below is what I sent to his community:

Dear Beloved Community,

It is with deep sorrow that we share John passed away on January 17th.

As a student and a teacher of meditation, John helped many people gain the awareness of how to more fully inhabit themselves. His clarity, simplicity and loving knowledge of the psyche and human heart has rippled with influence and impact across the world.

Deeply grounded in the felt sense experience, John guided us into the openness of the heart, the beauty of sensitivity, the gift of pain, the joy of living from connection and what it means to be at "home" in oneself. His gentle and loving teachings encouraged development of an internal greater presence within the body, speech, and mind.

It is a shock to lose someone as special and unique as John. May the influence he has had in your life continue to resonate deeply and inspire you to be more fully alive.

Weeks out

Weeks out, I am still grappling with the loss. There was simply so much more I wanted, felt I needed, had to learn from him.

I was not ready to lose him as my mentor in the flesh.

Still, for years to come, he'll teach me.

Of this I am sure.

It is a giant wake-up call. As if someone had smacked me over the head with a big bat.

Wake up. Live more. Be more present. Inhabit your heart and love without fear.

We are not here forever. Life is a gift.

If you're new to John's work, start with Perfect Love, Imperfect Relationships, the book that first found me. You can also read an excerpt of his writing on intimacy as a path here on the blog.

John and Mary Oliver left the earth on the same day. It only seems right to end this post with her poem "The Summer Day," and the question she closes it with.

Read "The Summer Day" by Mary Oliver at Poets.org