The Necessity of Ritual

The Necessity of Ritual During Times of Grief

There are so many types of grief. There is the grief of losing a loved one, the grief of a relationship ending, the grief of change, climate and political grief, ancestral grief, and ambiguous grief.

Grief is one of those experiences that is too big to hold on our own in isolation. Especially in the stages of acute grief, when the waves of grief are tumultuous and overwhelming. Grief needs to be held in the wider arms of community, in the wider arms of the earth, in the wider arms of spirit.

Ritual is a place where all these elements come together.

What do I mean when I say ritual? The Merriam Webster online dictionary says that ritual is a noun and means “the established form for a ceremony, ritual observance, a ceremonial act or action, an act or series of acts regularly repeated in a set precise manner.” Starhawk, ecofeminist activist and OG witch, says that one of purposes of ritual is that it creates a “container for sacred transformation, establishing a boundary between ordinary time and sacred time where change can occur.” Personally, I like that one. I believe that rituals can be elaborate, long, and have a formality to them. And rituals can also be small, personal, private, and improvised. Behind either form, the intention is what matters most.

On a psychological level, ritual provides a place for externalization. It offers tangible action, representation, and a place for our grief to go. Without the practice of externalization, emotions can feel stuck inside of us—hard to see, hard to place, and hard to integrate.

There is an alchemy that happens when a big emotion has somewhere to go outside of our own bodies. To an altar. To a holy object. To the earth. To a tree. To a formalized practice meant to hold it well.

This can be as simple as holding a stone for a while, pouring your grief into it, and letting it go in the river.

It can be as simple as creating an altar for your grief—a place where you can go to light a candle. “Here, my grief has a place,” it says.

One of my favorite things to facilitate is a somatic embodied grief ritual, because a community ritual provides an extremely important element for healing: resonance with other humans.

Community grief rituals have been some of the most important, healing, and powerful experiences of my life. When I lead these rituals, there is almost some quantum that happens - the collective field of energy and resonance allows for more healing and transmutation of stuck grief than we can access alone.

Many of us carry the story that grief is private. It should remain tucked away. It’s too personal, too messy, too vulnerable to share with others. And quite frankly, for many people, grief is too messy, and they shy away from supporting others in their deepest sorrow. It can feel like a scary place—where the road maps we were given about how to be and how to behave don’t guide us.

I remember after my dad died, I felt so shocked by the sudden loss that I didn’t know how to lean into connection. I didn’t even know how to ask for what I needed. I quite frankly didn’t know what I needed. Even though I felt like I was someone comfortable with emotions, I had never felt so raw, exposed, tender, and messy. I tried to tuck it away, believing that nobody was going to be able to meet me in that place. My anxiety levels soared. I was plagued with intrusive thoughts. My nervous system was going haywire.

And oddly enough, life just goes on. There was work. There was school. There was cleaning the cat box. It can be strange to keep going when there is a massive, heavy hole in your heart.

At the time, my therapist suggested I put a candle on my altar in my office because I was specifically having a hard time going back to work after my dad died. I would light that candle and let it burn the whole day. I’d peer over at it when I was in session, feeling comforted by its presence—knowing that my grief was being held by this small gesture, that it was being honored. This thing that felt like it was taking over my whole life had a place to rest for a while.

I know that so many people experience this. So many of us, myself included, were not given the tools, rituals, and rites to move through the passage of major grief in a way that honors it as an initiation.

In the last four years since my dad died, I have learned so much about grief—how it moves, what it needs, what I need to be with it. I feel as if I have been creating my own map for navigating those wild woods. And that map has included big and small rituals throughout, a map about learning how to lean in to connection, to ask for more support, to slow down enough to be tender, and to not rush through any of it.

The Support from Our More-Than-Human Kin

The natural world extends itself to us as kin, helping us hold, process, and repair our hearts.

From an animist perspective, the world is a living, breathing being. Plants, animals, stones, rivers, mountains, and elements are allies we can be in relationship with, who extend their wisdom to us if only we listen. Animism invites us into sacred relationship with the world around us. I believe that Animism is also a way of inviting us into sacred relationship with ourselves, remembering our Belonging here on this planet, interconnected within the web of existence.

In the deepest moments of grief, it is wise to lean into the wide web of support that this earth offers. Often, other humans, despite their best intentions, will fail us. Your friends won’t show up the way you need them to. Your partner won’t have endless capacity. Your family members may move through their grief in ways that are different from yours and feel isolating. And of course, people will show up for you (and they should) and it’s good to include the more-than-human connections in your web of support.

The beings of the world extend their loving arms to us. Trees can take us in. The river can be a balm for the soul. Stones can become places we return to for steadiness. A mountain can offer its wide perspective, its solid and steady presence. Fire offers its warmth and alchemical transformation. Water soothes our soul.

It is the most natural thing in the world for humans to feel connected to the land, to the spirits and souls of all beings who inhabit this earth, animate and inanimate. Systems of domination and control such capitalism, colonialism patriarchy and white supremacy have systemically disconnected humans from the earth, which is also to say, disconnected humans from the essence of our humanity.

It is our sacred birthright to be in connection and sacred reciprocity with the earth.

Grief has a way of cracking us open. The earth is there to receive us in that wild, tender state.

Rituals for Grief

1.) Create a grief altar. It can be as simple as a stone and a candle, or more elaborate with objects, photos, and sacred items that feel resonant for you. Put it somewhere in your home outside of your bedroom, or even outside in your yard or a nearby forest. Allow the building of the altar to be a ritual in itself. Return to your altar, making small offerings of incense, natural items, or even just your presence as many times as you need.

2.) Seek out community grief-tending rituals and spaces. Sometimes they happen over a handful of hours; others are immersive weekends.

3.) Widen your attention to remember that you are held by the wider world around you. When you find yourself in the midst of a deep grief wave, widen your awareness. Often when we are in pain, our awareness shrinks -we can feel like we are stuck in a tiny box with our pain. See if you can maintain connection with your own body and feelings, and at the same time, zoom your attention out to include your favorite tree, the mountain that is close by, the river - whichever points on your landscape you feel connected to. See if you can open your ears to hear the birds, the wind rustling the leaves.

4.) Imagine what you truly need in your time of grief. Imagine what it would be like to create it. Is it a time when you invite your friends to witness you in your grief—where you speak about the pain and receive loving touch? Is it something symbolic, like gathering a group to take a long walk to the river, carrying stones and releasing them one by one? Use your imagination. If you could imagine being supported beyond your wildest dreams, what would it look like? Perhaps this remains an imaginal practice, or perhaps you create it in your physical reality.

(If you would like assistance in creating a personalized grief ritual, please reach out to me. I would be happy to support you.)

Somatic Therapy & Coaching

If you are in a season in life where you are needing more support, I offer heart and soul centered somatic therapy and coaching, as well as a 3 month container that integrates somatic therapy and embodied spirituality.