It’s something I engage with daily and weekly, surfacing in conversations at least three times a week, though it’s not something I’ve spoken about publicly until now.
If you’re not doing your grief work, chances are you’re unwell—perhaps not acutely, but in some subtle, persistent way. It could manifest mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually, financially, socially, or even physiologically.
So, what is grief work?
It’s the intentional act of making space to feel, to explore your emotions fully, often in an uninterrupted container. Sometimes this is done alone, other times with a companion or group.
What can we grieve?
The answer is simple: anything and everything. Francis Weller speaks of the Five Gates of Grief, which offer a framework.
Grief isn’t linear. You might begin grieving one thing and suddenly find yourself moving through another gate, uncovering unexpected layers of loss. I’ve been in grief ceremonies with close friends, only to discover we were grieving the same things without knowing until discussioning afterwards.
We can grieve across all timelines, spaces, and dimensions. In fact, I urge you to. As my dear friend Renee once said, "Oh, I get it now. When we grieve, we’re clearing all timelines, space, and dimensions."
I make it a point to carve out at least 20 minutes each week to grieve—to allow the feelings that have built up from the week to move. As we move through life, we pick up emotional debris from everywhere: the dead animal on the roadside, hearing about a friend’s mother in the hospital, another friend struggling to make rent, car accidents, not to mention the constant barrage of political turmoil, war, and global genocide. We’re all connected.
Unexpressed grief will eventually show up in our bodies as illness—heart disease, cancer, diabetes—and it will keep us unwell. So, despite my busy schedule, I make time every week to cry. And here’s the most beautiful part: after I grieve, I feel lighter. I release the weight, and in its place, I find joy, bliss, ecstasy, and love.
As our mentor Laurence Cole sings, “If you want to get up to the joy, you’ve got to go down deep. So go down, go down, go down. The illness seeks the medicine, so go down.”
The reason I have so much magic, joy, and ecstasy in my life is because I make space to grieve. Whether it’s by the river or in my sauna, I allow myself to cry. Grief ceremony is just that—an alchemical process that moves us from pain to pleasure and peace.
I often, if not always, reach peak psychedelic transmissions in grief ceremony, similar to Ayahuasca or other plant medicines. Grief is a workout for your soul. In my community, we call it maintenance work.
We all recognize the importance of the physical gym, and that’s vital too—but the emotional gym is often overlooked. Both are essential, each keeping us strong in different ways for life.
I wanted to share with you how grief work has transformed my life. My hope is that you have good, grand grief today, so that tomorrow you may experience even deeper access to your joy and happiness.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Mather 5:4
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