The beauty about grief and loss is that it teaches you the exact size and shape of your heart.
It asks you to go into the dusty corners and forgotten memories and remember new.
When you cannot stop the tears and it goes on for what you consider too long,
Remember that only a large and well exercised heart can be a reservoir for this much sorrow.
As you close your eyes and begin to focus on your breath,
Realize that although grief may come in waves,
It cannot come crashing constantly upon your shore.
There is always a retreat.
While we breathe in,
We might allow grief to wash over us anew,
But the exhale brings relief.
The exhale is the opening of a fist,
The unclenching of eyes,
And the loosening of cords that have wound themselves around our hearts.
We can breathe in,
For we know that the exhale must always come.
So breathe in,
Taking comfort in the fact that the breath out is an inevitability,
For in grief and overwhelming sadness,
Our bodies know what to do when our hearts and our minds might not.
Allow breath to wash over you and move through you,
Starting from the top of your head.
As you breathe in,
Your body,
You bring light to it,
Not to overwhelm or overpower the grief,
But instead to support it.
At times,
Grief can feel like a living,
Breathing being causing havoc within you.
Things that cause chaos are often in need of patience,
Support,
And more understanding.
That is what the light brings to your grief.
As you sit and focus on your breath,
I also ask that you consider that you might come out of this,
Out of this grief,
Change.
We cannot face the adversity of loss and remain just as we were,
But the changes can be up to you.
The breath in is the old you,
And the breath out,
You are born anew.
Consider it not a loss,
But a change,
A reordering of self,
An opportunity to put yourself back together in a way more suited for the new world you face without the person,
Relationship,
Or situation that has left you to sit in your grief.
Nature knows what our hearts forget,
That spring must always come.
But winter can and at times does consume us.
So let yourself be consumed,
But as you lose yourself in the winter of your grief,
Hold a tiny bit of spring in a deep corner of yourself.
A flower,
A branch with a fresh green bud,
New and gentle birds trying out their wings for the first time.
In the midst of a downpour,
We might find ourselves believing that the rain may never stop and that surely we will be washed away.
And while we might feel the draw of an eternal rainstorm,
Our feet remain planted on the ground.
In this way,
We let the rain wash over us without washing us away.
The breath in might feel tight,
Unfriendly and unfamiliar,
But the breath out is a release.
Feel a light join your breath as you inhale,
Weaving its way throughout your body,
A lifeline in a turbulent sea.
Allow patience in this process,
As if you were being brought back in slowly after being swept out to sea.
The waves might try to claim you,
But the chord of light,
A connection,
A beautiful way back,
Draws you closer to the shore.
The breath in is the wave,
The breath out is the buoyancy of your body rising above.
At times sitting in this grief might feel as if you are attempting the impossible,
And at times you might be.
You are not one to let things take you all the way under.
The breath in is the grief and the breath out is the thank you.
These two things walk hand in hand for nature has shown us how intricately loss and growth are connected.
Each tree that grows would love to tell you this story.
Breathe in the grief,
The pain and the sorrow and allow yourself to breathe out the life,
The love and the healing.
Do not hurry yourself,
But rather sit in this grief as long as you need.
You will know when it is time to move,
But allow spring to slip in slowly on quiet feet.
Find the evidence of it in the dim corners of yourself and hold onto that tightly,
For nature knows what we have forgotten,
To breathe in loss and breathe out the new.
Thank you for joining me for this gentle practice today.
