The Alchemy of Loss

There is something wild about grief. It doesn’t bow to linear time or reason. It moves like wind through the soul, sometimes soft, sometimes unrelenting, sometimes nowhere at all until the scent of a familiar song or the absence of a voice opens a crack in the present and the flood returns.

Grief is not brokenness. It is not a deviation from life. It is life speaking in one of its most sacred languages. And yet, culturally, we try to flatten it. Tidy it. Speed it along. As if pain could be polished out of being.

But the soul does not heal on command. It asks to be witnessed. It asks for presence.

In truth, grief is an alchemist. It strips what is false and lays bare what is eternal. We may think we are unraveling, but it is in the unraveling that something new forms: a reorientation to truth, a realignment to love that no longer clings but includes everything.

Grief holds memory, yes—but it also holds invitation. Into humility. Into intimacy. Into the soft strength of being cracked open without needing to rush the closing.

There is no formula. But there is a rhythm. And eventually, that rhythm becomes livable.

Supportive practices:

• Create a weekly grief window. Light a candle, name what you miss, and sit with it—without solving it.

• Keep a "felt" journal. Not thoughts. Not analysis. Just felt textures. Heavy. Empty. Sharp. Tired. Let it speak its own weather.

• Gently move your body when the weight becomes static. Rocking or walking can help the sorrow breathe.

If you're looking for a held space to support grief integration, I offer 1:1 sessions rooted in gentleness and energetic tending.