My Guiding Star Through the Wilderness of Grief
In December, as I was exploring the idea of a website for all the writing and artwork I had been creating in the months after Hunter died (Aug 28, 2020), I looked to see if the URL for Grief Pilgrim was available. Sadly it was not. Fortunately, I perused the existing site and discovered Siobhan , a deeply wise guide through the wilderness of grief. There were many signs of alignment: quotes on the site from Francis Weller, whose book "The Wild Edge of Sorrow" has been my bible ever since I found it on mom's coffee table soon after she was diagnosed with ALS in 2016; the language she uses of tending the soul of grief; that she weaves story, poetry, nature, and ritual into the magic of her offerings. I immediately signed up for a five-week Grief Pilgrimage, which started before the holidays and provided me with the solid ground I desperately needed.
As our intimate group gathered on zoom for that first meeting I knew I was in a safe and sacred space. Hauntingly beautiful music was playing as we entered, which encouraged reflection rather than chitchat and the first thing Siobhan did was read a poem with such tenderness and feeling that tears rolled down her cheeks. She introduced the structure of the group which was loosely woven of time to check-in specifically with your grief, curling up for a story and then sharing with the circle about what touched us most, movement, more poetry, and council time (longer sharing with space to deepen into where our sorrow lives and how it wants to be expressed).
The quality of Siobhan's witnessing is extraordinary and has taught me how to offer this to others. We do not need to be taught about the stages of grief nor do we need to hear the facilitator's stories. We need space to discover where we are when sitting on the dark side of the moon, when in the arms of the underworld, when we've retreated into ourselves so far that we know nothing about what we need. At the end of each circle, we cup our hands around our eyes and say "I see you", then around our ears, "I hear you" and finish by resting our hands on our hearts, "I feel you".
Siobhan models the art of carrying grief in the same chamber of your heart as your deepest, most profound love. From her I have learned to honor the song that rises up in my chest. I do grief walks and allow nature to teach me about the mysteriousness of loss. I'm more comfortable sharing my grief in whatever way it wants to pour out of me-- movement, wailing, poetry, song. She has taught me that my grief matters and that there is no destination. The only "goal" is to open to what is, right now. To name it, honor it, listen deeply to the wisdom that wants to be spoken. In her presence, I feel witnessed, capable of being on this arduous journey because I have support and am deeply loved.
We have asked Siobhan to hold the ceremony we will do in person at the end of August in honor of the one-year anniversary of Hunter's death. Every muscle in my body relaxed when she accepted our invitation. The first thing she said about how we will go about this process is "we will listen for what wants to come through." To be held by a woman who so deeply trusts herself and us -- that is one of the greatest gifts I've ever received