"Grief is a sacred reality" Mirabai Starr
It was my sister's birthday this past Monday. She would have turned 21. Her absence is so palpable. Not one day goes by without thinking about her and this raw wilderness I find myself in. On Monday morning I drove out to my cousin's house with my children. When I walked into the house, one of my cousins was working on a painting of River. It made my heart leap a little, to be reminded that she lives on in the loving hearts of those who knew her.
Another cousin sent us home with a beautiful teal cake she whipped up that afternoon, for River's birthday (her favorite color too). We brought it home to share with my family, a little celebratory moment for a life loved and dearly missed.
Last week I was in the kitchen, struggling to stop tears (grief is alway present) when my two year old came running down the hall calling for me. As she leapt into my arms something tumbled out of her hand on to the floor, and my tears slowed as I hugged my girl, filling with joy at her little smile. She had dropped a bottle cap on the floor, and I turned it over as I picked it up - stamped on the lid were the words "everything will be okay". A much needed reminder that I can hold both the sorrow and the love, and everything might not feel okay, but it will be okay. While grief is ever present, my ability to contain my reality expands a little here and there - the heartbreak will never leave because the love doesn't end. But my ability to hold this strange but sacred reality continues to expand.
Things That Expand My Capacity
Movement. If your soul feels tired and lost - dance. Move. Go for a run, lift some weights. Get moving. Sometimes, you've got to get out of your head and into your body. Dance it out on the earth, let your body take over and feel the blood move through you, hear your breath loud in your ears.
Cook something. Lately cooking is more than just putting a meal on the table. It's a therapeutic meditation of presence. Slicing onions, stirring simmering broth. Filling the freezer with batches of soup and pizza dough isn't just about meal prep - it's about holding something tangible when everything else is unexplainable. It is something that feels controllable and productive, nourishing and almost protective.
Pray. Maybe you like talking to God, maybe you prefer to talk to the creative energy of the universe. I pray, a little, through every day. Sometimes I write pages of prayers in my journal. Sometimes I sing hymns. Sometimes I light an incense stick and watch the smoke rise to the ceiling, imagining it carrying my prayers to Gods ears. I dropped any notions of what worhsip "should" look like a long time ago. I never felt close to God until I dropped all pretension and just let my human scream into the abyss - and the abyss winked back and I knew my prayers had landed somewhere.
Create Something. Creating art isn't about perfection; it's about letting go and holding tight at the same time. Whether it's painting, writing, or whatever lets you spill your guts, it allows you to witness yourself, right where you are. Writing a story, a poem, a journal entry, even a doodle on a post note can be a way to release what needs to go and hold on to what holds you.
Gratitude in Every Breath.This isn't about toxic positivity - life is HARD. Grief is harder. We didn’t ask for this pain. I didn't want my life to look like this. But gratitude and appreciation is like a soothing balm on parched skin. A cup of tea that warms you from the inside out. Without looking for the love, the beauty, the things you are grateful for, you will become so lost. It's a simple perspective deepening that allows you to feel the good next to the bad.
So, whatever you might be going through right now, make art about it. Touch trees. Sit in the sun. Make a birthday cake for someone you lost. Drop meals off at a friends house. Put a little beauty back into the world. Drink a ton of tea. Say a little thank you with every breath. Say thank you with every breath and every cell.
I'm not telling you what to do. I'm just here, knowing that all of us on some level at some point in our lives will be walking with grief...and these are the things I have found helpful to myself. May they help and bless you, wherever you are. May they help expand your capacity to walk in the sacred reality of grief.
If you have a story to share about your own precious grief, I would love to witness and share your story. Please feel free to reach out to rainesillito@gmail.com to be part of the Walking with Others series here. I'd also love to hear how you expand your capacity for life and all it's ups and downs. Share a favorite recipe. A meditation or song you return to. We all belong here and we all grieve. We can nourish each other with our stories and the things that have helped us most on our hard days.
Raine, how sweet that your daughter in all her joy brought this endearing message, of "it will all be okay." That really touched my heart. I also related to what expands the capacity to be with all of it, because this would be my list too. May these support you in unimaginable ways!
This is beautiful and big and helpful and real. Thank you. I think our inner life just gets larger and larger and larger as we live, really LIVE, while we are here, what comes to us and what we reach out for. Anyway, I'd rather give you a hug than write a message, but this is what I CAN do on a Friday evening in March. Love to you.