In the Chinese five-element cosmology, fall is associated with the metal element whose organs include the lung and large intestine. The primary emotion we associate with metal is grief. And it is this very complex emotion that I’d like to reflect upon. As many of you know, my summer began with the unexpected loss of my younger brother. Just at the moment when I had hoped to be moving towards playfulness and joy, my world got broken apart in one of the most profound and irreparable ways. The sadness and grief surrounding his loss were complicated by layers of guilt I heaped upon myself for the distance I had knowingly created and unknowingly perpetuated between us. I had no choice but to retreat into the safety and introspectiveness of the metal element; examining, refining, clarifying what had become a very challenged relationship with a family member struggling with addiction.
One aspect of this journey that has since struck me as a profound gift, was being able to authentically share this grieving process with my children. Rather than hide in bathrooms or closets for moments of overwhelming grief, I allowed my tears and heaves to flow freely whenever they organically arose – in the car, cooking dinner, sitting by the fire, sipping tea. My children would ask curiously, “Are you okay, mama?” In the beginning, the grief was so intense I would often be unable to answer. As the weeks passed, I would pause and just remind them that I was still sad about the death of their uncle. They watched the tears become more and more infrequent, though never less intense when the waves surfaced. They heard me play my “sad song” over and over and over again, and watched grief slowly shift into acceptance. Like a phoenix rising from the ash, they witnessed their joyful, playful mother return. And in all this watching, grief became a little less scary, perhaps even amazing in its ability to transform without destroying.
The proof in this came about a month after my brother’s passing when my youngest daughter experienced her own deep loss after we got rid of her beloved tricycle. After an evening of profound sadness – I mean hours of wailing and visiting the street corner where it had been left – she awoke the next morning and sang me her own original “sad song” about her “green tricycle that my daddy put on the curb.” She sang this for a few days, and then maybe a week later, out of the blue, she told me that she was glad another little kid was able to ride her green bike. To watch my daughter move so gracefully through the stages of grief was like a gift given to our family from my little brother.
I am by no means an expert in grief and each person must make their own choices about how they allow themselves to experience this uncomfortable emotion; however, I do feel that our culture in America has very few structures in place to support the grieving process. In the case of death, once the funeral or memorial service is over, we are often left to navigate grief alone. I feel fortunate to have been introduced to the idea of creating my own organic grief rituals by Tami Kent, who talks about grief’s effect on health in her book Wild Feminine. Tami also introduced me to Sobonfu Some, an African woman who teaches the importance of ritual, and specifically grief rituals, worldwide. Both of these amazing women are great resources for anyone who is needing support in their grieving process.
The gift of traveling that very intense journey through the depths of grief and sadness is that I have arrived in the deep acceptance and stillness of the water element. Deep trust anchors me, even when the waves of sadness continue to come.
One aspect of this journey that has since struck me as a profound gift, was being able to authentically share this grieving process with my children. Rather than hide in bathrooms or closets for moments of overwhelming grief, I allowed my tears and heaves to flow freely whenever they organically arose – in the car, cooking dinner, sitting by the fire, sipping tea. My children would ask curiously, “Are you okay, mama?” In the beginning, the grief was so intense I would often be unable to answer. As the weeks passed, I would pause and just remind them that I was still sad about the death of their uncle. They watched the tears become more and more infrequent, though never less intense when the waves surfaced. They heard me play my “sad song” over and over and over again, and watched grief slowly shift into acceptance. Like a phoenix rising from the ash, they witnessed their joyful, playful mother return. And in all this watching, grief became a little less scary, perhaps even amazing in its ability to transform without destroying.
The proof in this came about a month after my brother’s passing when my youngest daughter experienced her own deep loss after we got rid of her beloved tricycle. After an evening of profound sadness – I mean hours of wailing and visiting the street corner where it had been left – she awoke the next morning and sang me her own original “sad song” about her “green tricycle that my daddy put on the curb.” She sang this for a few days, and then maybe a week later, out of the blue, she told me that she was glad another little kid was able to ride her green bike. To watch my daughter move so gracefully through the stages of grief was like a gift given to our family from my little brother.
I am by no means an expert in grief and each person must make their own choices about how they allow themselves to experience this uncomfortable emotion; however, I do feel that our culture in America has very few structures in place to support the grieving process. In the case of death, once the funeral or memorial service is over, we are often left to navigate grief alone. I feel fortunate to have been introduced to the idea of creating my own organic grief rituals by Tami Kent, who talks about grief’s effect on health in her book Wild Feminine. Tami also introduced me to Sobonfu Some, an African woman who teaches the importance of ritual, and specifically grief rituals, worldwide. Both of these amazing women are great resources for anyone who is needing support in their grieving process.
The gift of traveling that very intense journey through the depths of grief and sadness is that I have arrived in the deep acceptance and stillness of the water element. Deep trust anchors me, even when the waves of sadness continue to come.