In this blog post, I’d like to share one of the ways I’ve been coping with the grief of losing a beloved pet—through mindfulness.
Today’s theme is:
“What Is Mindfulness?”
Please note that this is based solely on my personal experience. I am not a meditation expert or therapist, so I appreciate your understanding.
Does Mindfulness Make Grief and Anxiety Disappear?
When I was struggling with depression, a physical therapist recommended that I try meditation as a way to ease my anxiety and emotional pain.
(You can read more about my experience with depression [here].)
(My first encounter with meditation is shared [here].)
The therapist told me that mindfulness meditation can help reduce anxiety and sadness.
But when I actually gave it a try, I realized something important:
Mindfulness doesn’t make grief or worries go away.
After meditating, I would still find myself overwhelmed by emotions. However, something had shifted. Unlike before, even when the sadness and worries remained, I could stay calm and centered.
I came to understand that mindfulness doesn’t erase pain—but it changes how we face it.
My Personal Image of What Meditation Feels Like
Around 2007, after my beloved dog passed away, I gradually accumulated stress and eventually developed depression a few years later.
No matter what I tried, nothing seemed to go well. I blamed myself for everything and kept beating myself up.
To me, meditation feels like this:
It’s like taking all your worries and fears and placing them a little away from your heart.
(Just my personal impression.)
It’s as if you’re observing this bundle of anxiety from a short distance, almost like looking at it objectively from the outside.
It’s close enough that you could reach out and grab it—but you don’t have to.
In fact, the key is not to grab it.
Because the moment you hold onto that bundle of fear, you get pulled back into your anxiety and emotional turmoil.
Let Me Explain in a Bit More Detail
Let me give you a more concrete example of how I experience meditation.
Let’s say a painful thought suddenly arises:
“Someone said something hurtful to me today… That really stung.”
When that feeling surfaces, I try to give it a shape or form.
In my case, I imagine rolling it into a ball—like a rice ball —and placing it aside.
Some people imagine putting it into a box.
Others imagine sealing it inside a soap bubble.
Having a visual form makes it easier to separate yourself from the feeling.
Then, I imagine placing that rice ball on a table…
Or tucking it away in a locker…
Or even letting it float gently in the air inside a bubble.
In this way, the painful thought still exists—but it’s no longer sitting in my heart.
It’s a little farther away from me.
The memory is still there, but now it’s just a harmless little rice ball resting on a table.
Meditation and Mindfulness
This is just my personal impression, but to me, meditation feels like emptying your mind completely.
It reminds me of doing zazen (seated meditation) at a temple, where you’re expected to sit in silence.
If your mind wanders, the monk may tap you to bring your focus back.
On the other hand, mindfulness feels a bit different.
In my experience, the mind is not empty during mindfulness.
Instead, it’s filled with just one single thought or focus—
and you intentionally avoid thinking about anything else.
For example, if you’re eating, you don’t let your mind drift to work or worries.
You focus entirely on the act of eating:
the flavors, the texture, the movement of chewing.
You’ve probably heard the phrase:
“Live in the present moment, not in the past or future.”
Worries about work belong to the past or future.
But right now—this very moment—is simply your time to eat.
That’s why I feel that mindfulness is all about being present—
focusing on the “now,” without distraction.
When You Had a Pet, Your Mind Was Always Full—in the Best Way
Think back to the days when your pet was still with you.
When you played together, didn’t you feel a deep sense of peace?
Didn’t all your worries about work seem to disappear for a while?
Even when you were struggling, just having your pet by your side gave you strength.
You may have even talked to your pet about your troubles—
and at the same time, felt comforted just by their presence.
Maybe, without realizing it, you were taking your worries, turning them into little balloons or rice balls, and gently placing them to the side.
When our pets are with us, I believe our minds are naturally full—
not in an overwhelming way, but in a warm, contented way.
That fullness of mind—that mindfulness—
may be what we lose when we lose our beloved companions.
And that’s part of why pet loss hurts so deeply.
Even though we can’t bring our pets back,
we, the ones who are still here,
can try to find new ways to keep our minds full again—
with love, with presence, and with moments of peace.
Customer Reflections
Reading the reviews and heartfelt messages from customers after they receive their custom cushions,
I sometimes wonder—maybe these cushions are helping with mindfulness too.
“I feel like my dog has come home.”
“Having this cushion gives me strength to keep going.”
When I hear such kind words, I can’t help but feel that perhaps their minds are becoming full again—with love, peace, and presence.
And that makes me truly happy.
I knit each piece, recreating beloved pets as lifelike knitted portraits from photos.
I will continue doing my best, hoping that these creations can help fill your heart—just a little—and bring you comfort in times of grief.
In my workshop.
With my deceased pets.
Creation Scene
Creating is so relaxing, and it fills my mind.