bandaid with flower on woman's back There is a certain chips brand that easily satisfies at least 7 of the 9 types of hungers we distinguish in me-cl and that I like to eat to comfort myself. Recently, it has been more than usual that that certain brand would land in my food shopping bag. Then, back at home, I would love and yield into that moment of taking one hand full after another of the crispiness into my mouth and let it all melt while chewing until it reaches my heart, pours its unconditional comfort into me and sticks a band aid onto the aching parts of my being.

– At least for some moments.

Because, you know, this is not only about chips but also about grief – and I am not speaking about the griefs coming with illness or death. I speak about simple daily life moments of sadness or that moment waking up and realizing that life was, is and will always be different than I want or can ever imagine – something I ‘knew’. And somehow it seems that I didn’t.

They came with one big moment into my awareness, all those disappointments with myself, with life, my partner, our relationship. And they set off an intense and long series of deep grief moving my life for a while, moments I had to put away the bowl with chips while my sobbing grew stronger and louder and I knew I have to take care of myself differently.

A beautiful moment I find: Something in me grows so strong that I don’t know any better than to surrender. Everything that was before – thoughts of how this is alarming, questions of whether it’s still alright, whether I am depressed, how to fix it, wanting it to go away, trying to shortcut or bypass the process, all the obvious and subconscious taking control of what I experience in order to protect myself from the actual pain – all that falls away when I allow myself to surrender. And it is only then that I start moving towards true acceptance. Acceptance that comes with grounding myself into trust in a bigger intelligence than I am, an intelligence that brings healing when grief is allowed to move undisturbed.

womans' barefeet walking on logGrief does have its own life. And I can choose to “be with” it or not. I can choose to be a vessel for the movements grief unfolds, accompanying them on their passage. Will I hold on to them – identify? I’ll get stuck. Will I ignore them – neglect? I won’t truly arrive. But if I stay present and with I can find where I came from, what to let go, what comes along with the transition and where I want to settle next. Because to me, grief is a transition, like the sacred pause between in and outbreath or that moment when I walk step by step, taking my foot off the ground. It is that moment of being nowhere and everywhere at the same time, touching the fullness of a life deeply letting go and by that holding all potential, all possibilities, just before finding new ground and setting the foot into new stability, a new place to move from.

Isn’t that beautiful? Grieving mindfully, I find the healing seeds and the fruits, all at once. Being with grief instead of against or sticking to it eventually and organically brings me joy, peace and a deep love for being. And I find that there is a huge loss in what I believe to be socio-cultural exiling of grief into the hidden, private spaces of aloneness. And that’s why I’m writing about it, writing about its beauty.

And also, I’m curious:

pink water lilyHow do you relate to grief in your own life personally and in your environment?

Is grief for you, as it is for me, maybe also part of your own healing journey?

May we honor more the tenderness of our hearts. It is that tenderness that opens the lotus.

Ewgenia Roth, Germany

Photo credits: ttps://unsplash.com/photos/Yp_tSUrm8T4;https://unsplash.com/photos/IKEwHKKIzog; https://unsplash.com/photos/zoJgYWHOYaw

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