Let's Talk About Grief

A few weeks ago I had a sudden need to go camping alone in nature. I didn’t know why exactly, but something was stirring within me and it needed to be explored away from the busy-ness of my life and the modern world. The idea of some quiet time in the company of wild rivers and trees felt very much needed. So I booked a single night to camp near the Rappahannock River on private land held by another shamanic practitioner.

Getting out to nature amidst a loaded schedule, divorce, and demands of parenthood was no easy feat. Originally I wanted to camp for several nights but my schedule demands would just not allow it. I even had to cancel and reschedule a couple times before I could finally commit to a date and make the drive. I felt a little bit of a frazzled mess. Why was I so adamant about camping, and why was it so difficult to do?

I began to notice how I was starting to make excuses

in my head for reasons to cancel. It’s too far…it’s not worth camping for one night…I don’t have enough time…It will be raining…I have too much to do… The noise in my head grew louder the closer I got to camping.

As a practitioner who holds space for others, I was observing myself and knew with absolute certainty something was going on that needed to be addressed. And as the person experiencing it, I was lost in the messiness of it all. All I knew was that if I went to nature, I would find out. So I kept my commitment and drove four hours to camp alone in the cold rain for a single night. And it was exactly what I needed. 

-----------------

I am currently in the messy process of divorce and so far I have felt rather proud of myself for navigating all the many emotions and feelings that one does in this experience. Rage, anger, fear, panic, worry, sadness, loneliness, excitement, joy, freedom, happiness….all of it. These feelings have cycled through me at various times in this divorce process when they needed to be expressed and felt. Each time I visit these feelings I find the intensity is gentler and more familiar. The feelings have less hold on me.

I sometimes get a little too excited when I arrive at this point with my feelings. I naively believe I’m through the storm of healing. Usually when this happens, I am blindsided by a deeply seeded emotion that I had no idea was buried deep down in the folds of my psyche. It’s both rather humbling and deeply revealing every time I go through this experience. And this is what unfolded when I went camping. 

------------------

I pulled into the long drive through a forest that backed up to a ravine of 400 acres of wild conservation land. I busied myself setting up my sleeping arrangements and lighting a fire. I warmed water in a kettle and rehydrated a package of curry for my dinner. I sat by the crackling fire and enjoyed the warmth of my dinner, listening to the leaves falling and branches moving in the wind. In the stillness I enjoyed the quiet, but a storm was swirling inside. Something was surfacing up and I didn’t know what it was, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

I have a hidden tendency to expect immediate magic when I show up in spiritual settings or in wild landscapes. I held a quiet expectation for this camping trip that I would arrive and suddenly feel connected and good and one with nature. But the truth of what I was feeling upon arrival was far from that. I felt completely disconnected from everything, including myself.

When I arrived, I felt confused, lost, and muddied deep in strange stirring feelings within. But I didn’t want to feel that way, so I ignored those feelings. Instead of listening to what was going on inside, I tried to busy myself with connecting outside. I tried to connect to the fire. I tried to connect to the trees. I tried to connect to the Earth. Never once did I try to connect with myself.

That night a huge rain storm came. The loud clamor of rain drops kept me awake most of the night. I was worried about water leaking into my items and woke up frequently to check on everything. The downpour was deafening at times. I crawled deeper into my sleeping bag, tightening the straps around face so I could try to ignore the wild winds and heavy downpour of rain.

By morning the storm had passed. The risen sun sparkled and glistened upon the water droplets that laced each leaf. A gentle mist rose from the rocks and Earth. The landscape was quite beautiful and serene. I slowly crawled out of my sleeping bag and took considerable effort to make a new fire with all of the moisture. I was on my fourth and final attempt to light a fire long enough to make my breakfast.

This is me feeling annoyed, not even sure why I am taking a selfie

As I struggled to keep my fire alive, I had a split second realization that I was

annoyed.

I was annoyed that it was so hard to make a fire. I was annoyed that it rained all night. I was annoyed that I couldn’t figure out my feelings. I was annoyed that I drove all the way out here to camp for only one night. I was annoyed that life felt so hard in that moment. I was annoyed about this divorce. I was annoyed about the mind games and confusing nature of ending one version of my life and coming into an entirely new one. I was annoyed.

Not the most profound realization to have in such a serene and beautiful landscape. But it was what I could identify and land on. It was the most sense I could make about anything in that moment, so I acknowledged it. I continued on feeding the fire and successfully heated up a kettle of water to make oatmeal. I carried my bowl of breakfast and a journal out to the large rocks of the ravine. And there I sat for several hours.

I finished my oatmeal.

I journaled about feeling annoyed.

I sat and watched the mist rise from the rocks.

“Now what?” I sat some more.

“Why am I here?” A tiny little pang pressed on my heart.

“Oh no.” I thought. I could feel its gentle nudge, asking if I was ready to feel it yet.

“Grief is here” I realized.

It sat in my heart for a good while as I processed in my head this new realization.

Grief.

Part of me wanted to protest and part of me did not. My fiery annoyance returned and I was angry that this Grief was surfacing. “Haven’t I felt enough?!” I silently screamed in my head.

“I thought I was doing so well with processing all these emotions!”

The Grief gently pressed a bit more upon my heart.

“Why are you here?” I thought and wondered.

I knew I was going through a major life transition with divorce, and I have been allowing the feelings of this experience to flow through.

“Haven’t I already felt you enough?”

I was not ready to let the Grief speak. I was not ready to listen. I laid down upon the rocks and eventually fell asleep under the blanket of warm morning sunshine. This felt easier to do than to sit with Grief. I am not sure how much time passed, but I was suddenly awakened by the sound of feet approaching.

“Knock, knock…” Darlene, the shamanic practitioner who owns the land, came to the edge of the ravine. Startled, I shot up and adjusted my jacket before I could look in her direction and say hello.

“How are you doing?” Darlene gently asked.

“I’m sort of a mess.” Without a moment to gather my thoughts I answered in absolute honesty. I nearly burst into tears in that very moment. The sheer experience of having someone suddenly there to ask and listen to me was powerful. I swallowed and collected my emotions before they took over. Darlene stepped on a few rocks closer to me and asked if she could help.

I nodded, ready to burst into tears once again. "I think I could use some support.” I whispered out.

A tear flowed down my cheek. Darlene sat down on a large rock next to mine. She didn’t push or prod. She didn’t rush. At first she just sat there. I looked out at the sunshine sparkling through the branches and placed my hand on my heart. Now that someone else was here with me, I felt ready to listen to my feelings.

Just as I do when I hold healing space for others, Darlene guided me through the very same practices. She gave me all the time I needed to feel and listen. She helped me find it in my body and get to know it.

I told her I was feeling annoyed.

Several quiet moments passed and Darlene asked “And what is that annoyance hiding underneath?"

“Grief” I whispered.

Suddenly Grief poured through me almost like the rainstorm that poured through the night before. Warm tears flowed down my cheeks. Memories of what my married life was like surfaced up in my awareness. Even though I am so excited about my new beginning, there is still immense Grief over the goodbyes of what once was. All the good and all the bad. Letting go of one chapter so that I can begin a new one is immense. And Grief was there to help me through it.

Me remembering myself again

Darlene sat with me as I cried. She didn’t need to say or do anything. Sometimes just sitting with another and giving them permission to feel and be seen with all they are holding is the most powerful healing someone can give. After that initial surge of Grief was released through me, I could suddenly see and really feel the beauty all around me. I remembered.

Intuitively, Darlene knew when it was time to leave, knowing I was finally able to listen to my Grief and sit with it. After she left I continued to feel a few more surges of Grief pour through me. The tender pressure against my heart changed and moved. It grew less intense but still present.

“I came all the way out here to feel Grief” I thought to myself.

------------------

Grief never leaves, but it surfaces up when we need to feel it in order to

process what we are experiencing in this life. Just as with all of our emotions, there is no good or bad feelings. They are simply living emotions within us that are here to help us navigate this immense journey of life. They show up at different times in our life to tell us when something is wrong and unjust, or when we are ending a chapter of our lives, or when we are about to embark on something big… 

It seems to me that grief is surfacing up in all pockets of our life these days. Many of us feel like helpless bystanders to the immense wave of change and deconstruction that is sweeping across our world and personal lives. It can be very difficult to process and make sense of it all.

From a shamanic, spiritual, and even quantum science point of view, what we experience in our inner world is a reflection of what is happening in our outer world, and vice versa. I find in my own personal experience, and in my observations of the collective, that the same medicine applies to both.

That medicine begins when we are able to sit with the uncomfortable feelings that surface up in difficult times. Our emotions are our friends. When we only give our attention to a select few like happiness, joy, or excitement, we are excluding a whole side of ourselves that also needs the same care and attention. Treat your feelings like tender children and give them a voice. Sit with them, even the uncomfortable ones. Ask them what they want to tell you. Give them time and space to express what needs to be expressed.

If you find yourself stuck in the muddled swirl of feelings and need help navigating, find a trusted friend or shamanic practitioner to help guide you through your emotions or just sit with you so you can begin listening.

------------------

To visit Darlene and experience her beautiful nature reserve, visit: https://earthwalkways.com/