Welcome,
Beloved soul.
You have entered a sacred space of remembrance.
This is not a space to fix your grief,
But to witness it,
To breathe with it,
To allow your soul and your cells to remember what was lost,
What was loved,
And what still lives inside you.
Begin by softening into your seat.
Let the earth carry your weight.
Inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth,
Gently and slowly.
With each breath,
Feel your body letting go of holding.
Feel the deep intelligence of your cells,
The tiny living memory keepers within you.
Each cell holds the imprint of your life,
Your joys,
Your losses,
Your stories.
And still they breathe with you.
Still they long for wholeness.
As you breathe,
Whisper inwardly,
I am safe to remember.
I am safe to feel.
Imagine now a luminous light surrounding you.
It may come as the Shekhinah,
The indwelling feminine presence.
It may feel like the warmth of an ancestor's shawl,
Or the hum of a beloved voice.
It could be colors,
Shapes,
Or symbols.
Whatever it is,
Let this divine presence wrap around you like a mantle of remembering.
You are not alone.
You are not forgotten.
Your soul remembers.
And so does the sacred.
Now gently call forth the grief you carry.
You don't need to name it.
Just feel where it lives in your body.
Is it in your chest?
Your throat?
Your womb?
Your belly?
Place your hand there if that feels right.
And breathe into that place with tenderness.
Grief is not a mistake.
It is the soul's cry when something sacred has been altered.
A thread pulled from the tapestry of your life.
Whisper gently.
I see you.
I feel you.
You are welcome here.
Let the breath move through the grief like a river through ancient stone.
With every breath,
The pain does not disappear.
But it becomes held,
Loved,
Softened.
Let's now enter the space of soul memory.
Beneath grief is a deep remembrance of love,
Of connection,
Of meaning.
Let the soul speak now.
Maybe through an image,
A feeling,
A whisper.
Ask inwardly,
What am I being asked to remember?
Perhaps it is the warmth of a hand once held.
A word that shaped you.
A dream not yet fulfilled.
These fragments are sacred.
The body remembers the sound of laughter.
The skin remembers being touched with love.
The cells remember joy too.
And in this remembering,
Something heals.
Let yourself say,
This love is still alive in me.
I carry it forward now with reverence.
If it feels right,
Imagine now placing your grief into the hands of the divine.
Not to lose it,
But to let it be held in a wider heart.
To be blessed,
To be alchemized.
Offer it as a sacred gift.
A love that was true.
A heart that dared to care deeply.
As you release,
Feel the cells of your body soften.
Not forgetting,
But trusting that memory can be medicine.
That loss can become presence.
That grief can become grace.
Begin now to return to your breath,
To your body,
To this moment.
Place your hands over your heart or your belly.
Breathe into your own presence and say,
I am alive.
I am whole.
I am keeper of a sacred memory.
May your grief teach you compassion.
May your body hold your story with love.
And may your soul rise again wiser and more radiant than before.
You are not broken.
You are becoming.
Your grief is not weakness.
It is the wild devotion of a soul that is loved deeply.
Walk forward now,
Not empty,
But remembered.
