What Grief Needs
What Grief Needs
Often grief lives in a place within us that is beyond words.
Beyond linear comprehension.
Beyond speaking, beyond talking.
Grief asks for a different kind of expression.
A way beyond language.
Grief needs art.
It needs music.
It needs movement.
Grief calls for ritual, for the symbolic.
It asks to be held—wide-armed, without question.
A long exhale.
Grief, like many big emotions, does not make sense within the structures we are used to—within the structures of our society, within capitalism, within a left-brain–dominant, logical, yang culture.
Grief pulls us into the deep waters of the subconscious.
Most people are afraid of this space—this uncharted territory.
Afraid they might get lost forever
in the pull of the tides,
in the thickness of the mist,
in the winding forest grove.
And it is scary to go it alone.
In Western culture, this is not a skill we are taught, not a path we are shown how to walk.
And yet, learning to walk this path is deep medicine.
But it is not meant to be walked alone.
I have found that grief is a great teacher and guide,
who teaches us to connect more deeply with the full range
of who we are, to connect with compassion, humanity,
and spirituality.
Grief, unprocessed, can cut us of from our emotions further,
cause anxiety and depression, and block us of from feeling
more joy, creativity, and connection.
When I work with clients experiencing grief—whether it is fresh and tender, or old, hidden, and hardened—I find that grief often needs a few essential things:
1. Deep presence and attunement.
Because we often feel our grief is “too much,” or because the people in our lives don’t know how to hold us in it, it is essential that I communicate through presence and attunement: This is not too much for me. I am right here with you. I am not going anywhere.
2. Expression beyond words.
Through art, music, and movement, grief can move in ways language could never do justice. Making art is an amazing way to give grief a channel of expression. The body holds all of our emotions, including our grief, so giving the body space to move, either through guided movement, authentic movement, or even gentle touch based modalities such as stillness touch, allows grief to to be expressed and moved.
3. Working gently with resistance.
When grief has been unprocessed or tucked away for a long time, there is often significant resistance to feeling it. From a parts-work perspective, it is vital to spend time with these protector parts—honoring how hard they have worked to keep you safe, out of fear that the grief might swallow you whole.
4. Ritual, animism, and the more-than-human world.
Grief needs ritual—no matter how small—to help it move and be metabolized. An altar in the home or in the forest. A candle lit in its honor. A place for grief to live.
Connecting with the more-than-human world can expand our capacity to hold what feels unbearable alone. This is ancient medicine that modern Western culture has largely forgotten.
Grief is often too much to carry by yourself.
Perhaps the river can help hold it.
The steady presence of the oak.
The hillside overlooking the forest.
The owl calling in the night.
Spiritual practice helps us make meaning—and meaning is something we need to navigate suffering.
