Why A Grief Practice
Ideas for daily grieving:
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I think, as coaches, we need to touch into how painful it feels to put yourself out there in a way that feels really vulnerable and authentic, and get zero validation or any feedback. Over and over.
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If you sit with how much you have been broadcasting your soul, for how long a time with no answer, it can feel like you're an alien that's been abandoned on an inhospitable planet by your own people. There is grief there to feel.
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I think, as parents, we need to touch into the ways this culture hates, disregards, shames, and uses parents, but especially mothers. Mothers carry so much grief.
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There is also grief around how this culture hates, disregards, shames, and breaks children. How, because we are obsessed with progress, we weigh our children down with milestones, expectations, responsibilities, etc. long before they are ready. We don't know how - or more accurately, we are not allowed - to let our kids be kids.
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There is also the grief of how distant we are with our own natures. How distant we are with the ecosystems of this earth. How we have no more-than-human kin. How we are kin-less. How we are not in right relationship with the earth. That is deep grief.
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There is an infinite amount to grieve, and that is scary. But to not touch into grief at all turns something infinite into shadow, into bogeyman.
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The sane thing to do is wail daily.
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And miraculously, it makes you lighter. Not heavier. Happier, not sadder.
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Reminded now of a Martin Shaw quote: When we prematurely claim doom we posit dominion over the miraculous. We could weave our grief to something more powerful than that. Possibility.
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And I sense the truth of this: Grief is not capitulating to doom. It is watering possibility. It is clearing the way for the miraculous.
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I invite you to grieve. I invite you to consider that part of the medicine for this particular condition we find ourselves and the earth in, is grief.
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I sense in myself, if I don't grieve, I lie to myself. I burden myself with haunts I now must spend a lot of energy pretending don't exist. I carry something infinitely heavy, but pretend it's not there.
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If I grieve, it is a storm that gives way to lightness, to energy, to possibility.
