Creating solid ground for grief.

“If I start crying, I will never stop and I’ll drown”

Often our grief feels bottomless, like it’s too big for our bodies to contain. And so we make the choice, consciously or unconsciously, to stay a bit numb, to keep busy, to look the other way.

Wise choices.

Grief is a land we’re not made to travel alone.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, we were better at it. We had ritual, we had community around us who knew what to do, we had the right support to feel our way through it. We understood grief to be an initiation, a portal, a rite of passage.

An experience that would change us.

Culturally, we’re expected to be “back to normal” just a short time after experiencing loss, and so we hang out on the threshold, holding it together, putting on a brave face, going through the motions, never having permission or support to step fully through that door and let ourselves be changed.

It’s not acceptable to be grieving, to let grief change us.

But…what if it was?

What if we remembered how to grieve? Brought back the rituals, brought back the village, brought back permission to feel everything that grief lays at our feet? The sadness, the tears, the rage, the tender memories, the rawness, the fact that this is not fair, the hopelessness, the hope, the unexpected laughter, the whole messy spectrum of what it means to be human?

What if we allowed all of our grief to be heard? Grief from loss, grief from expectations unmet, grief for the parts of us that never received the care we needed, grief at what’s happening to our planet and in our world. What if we let our hearts be big enough to hold all of that?

We can’t do it alone, but we can do it together.

What if we said yes to feeling all of that?

My heart longs for spaces like that.

My bones remember spaces like that.

Generative, healing, living spaces where we gather not to fix things or change things or judge things, but to be with each other, to feel with each other, to let ourselves be vulnerable and seen, to cry. Human spaces.

A solid ground for grief.

I suspect that the bigness of our feelings might start to feel more manageable, our hearts might start to feel more open, we might start to feel less alone.

Perhaps you’d like to try it, next time you’re feeling out of sorts - instead of keeping busy, instead of going numb, asking someone to keep you company while you feel the way you’re feeling.

And, perhaps you’d like to be a part of a 6 week workshop series I’m holding soon - we begin on Monday May 23 (Sunday 22 if you’re in the US). It’s called ‘A Ground for Grief’, and we’ll be using art therapy, ritual, and community to create a solid ground for grief and to start to tend to our losses.

I’ll have more info very soon - if you’re interested, let me know and I’ll send it to you when it’s ready. I would love to have you as part of our brave community, creating a solid ground for grief.