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15 Aug Grief Circles

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Embodied Support for Grief, Using Creativity, Ritual and Grief Circles

In today’s world many people long to return to places where grief is spoken of, where we can find connection and name our truths. There are many practices where a grief circle is central, and Grief Tending is one of them. In Grief Tending, we set an intention to move gently towards feelings. Before a grief circle we use exercises that help to make people feel comfortable enough with the process to be able to participate. A grief circle is a ritual where feelings make be expressed. At the end we use practices to move back to rest and digest mode, to soothe our nervous systems once the grief circle is complete.

Our Ancestors’ Circles

Since people have been on this earth, they have gathered in circles. Our ancestors sat with a fire at the centre, and the crackle of logs, the scent of smoke. People all over the world and throughout time gathered to find warmth, tell stories, sing songs and speak from the heart. In places and organisations where we depend on plastic chairs, and electric light, rather than the glow of a fire, we may long to return to the practice of gathering in circle in nature. Despite modern environments, grief circles continue to be meaningful to participate in.

Grief Circles in Grief Tending

In Grief Tending we include embodiment, creativity and ritual in our events, and the way in which we bring a grief circle. When we practice Grief Tending, we often use a grief circle as the central part of the event. When we meet face to face, we use a variety of central practices to express feelings, including grief circles.

A Trauma Sensitive Approach to Grief Circles

Working with a trauma sensitive approach, we structure events so that exercises to focus on embodiment and support happen before a grief circle. During a grief circle we encourage people to take care of their needs. Sharing is always optional. It can be a big step for someone to risk being vulnerable, and be witnessed in a group setting.

And then soothing and integration practices happen after a grief circle.

The Circle is Democratic

Sitting in circle is an ancient and simple format for sharing with others. It creates a non-hierarchical form that can be democratic. Although a grief circle may have a facilitator, they are not above or below anyone else in the space. The voice of each member can be equally represented and heard. In the role of grief circle facilitator, I may share my experiences in the circle (when time allows), which participants often appreciate. Because this mirrors the universal nature of the experience of grief. The facilitator is also part of the circle whether they share or not.

Grief Tending in Community

Grief Tending is a practice that happens in community, and during an event we will make and return to a circle together repeatedly. We invite participants to be part of the holding container, so that each person will at times be a holder, or step forward to express themselves in some way. People who are in the holding role give their attention to witness and acknowledge someone who is sharing something. The person who takes a turn to step into the being witnessed role may speak or sound, sing, move or be silent.

If this is speaking to you, to find out more about the practice of Grief Tending here. And the grief circles we hold here.

Unspoken Truths

People often share things in a grief circle that they may not be able to in other contexts. They may reveal something that they have never told anyone before. There may not be words but feelings that are expressed through sounds, tears, body movements. If it feels safe enough, people may voice something, and through it being seen and heard by others, it can have a transformative effect. Being witnessed can be a very powerful experience.

The Role of Witness

Stories that have been kept secret or feel shameful may be received with the supportive attention of the circle. We invite the group to acknowledge what they have witnessed with simple words, “I see you,” or “I hear you”, but not to offer advice. One at a time people share, and the group receives them and responds without judgement. Hearing one another can be an extraordinary experience too. As Kelly McGonigal puts it, “Listening with your whole body except your mouth”. In the Grief Tending circles we hold, the listeners do not offer reflections or ‘cross talk’ with their own responses to someone else’s story.

How Does a Grief Circle Work?

In a grief circle our experience is welcomed, given space, and seen. Turns to share may be taken starting in one direction, one person after another. Or people may be invited to take turns ‘popcorn style’, whenever they feel ready. In a small group everyone may have an equal turn to share. This may be timed, so that the group’s time is divided equally. Even a small amount of sharing time can be useful. There may be a talking ‘stick’ or a sound, to mark the beginning or end of someone’s time to share. In a large circle everyone may not take a turn to share something. This will depend on the time allowed, the group’s intention, and the agreements set before the circle begins.

The Role of Sharer

Stepping into the role of sharer can feel very intense. As a consequence of previous history, being an introvert, trauma around groups, or being seen, can make this feel either a bit scary or extremely challenging. In the groups we hold, sharing is not an obligation. People may pass if it is their turn. Choosing to take a turn, but remain silent is also a valid way to use the opportunity. It is often the case that people have felt alone, ashamed, overwhelmed, not good enough. But when they share their real feelings with the grief circle, they discover that other people may have similar feelings or experiences.

Vulnerability Builds Connection

Through someone making themselves vulnerable by revealing their inner experience, this deepens and strengthens the connection felt in the group. In response to what has been shared the participants of the holding circle often feel empathy. This can lead to a sense of compassion between people for one another. As a consequence, they may each begin to recognise some similarity in the way they feel. Common themes may emerge amongst participants. As a result, this increases connection between group members.

We Deserve Kindness

Through the grief work that I do, I see windows into people’s inner lives. I regularly see that we are fierce keepers of our hearts to protect ourselves. We often judge ourselves more harshly than others. Many people are scared, anxious, and ashamed. Our inner critic take control, undermining our sense of self worth and confidence. Our unattainable expectations, inner perfectionists and not-good-enough imposter syndrome ties us in knots that keeps us restricted and small.

People Deserve Respect

Recognising this in others can help us see that we also deserve kindness, respect, and a chance to be seen. Malidoma Somé speaks of people’s natural longing to shine:

“Whether they are raised in indigenous or modern culture, there are two things that people crave: the full realization of their innate gifts, and to have these gifts approved, acknowledged, and confirmed. There are countless people in the West whose efforts are sadly wasted because they have no means of expressing their unique genius. In the psyches of such people there is an inner power and authority that fails to shine because the world around them is blind to it.”
Malidoma Patrice Somé The Healing Wisdom of Africa: Finding Life Purpose Through Nature, Ritual, and Community

The Context That Grief Happens In

Events which spark grief happen to everyone. But they always happen in a context. It is not just the impact of the event itself which may cause grief, but how it was handled afterwards that may have added to feelings of not being held, seen, or protected after the loss or difficult situation. People often arrive in a grief circle after experiences which have not been received with the care and unconditional love which support healing. Therefore, with the holding provided by the members of the group, this is another way in which a grief circle can have a strong and healing effect. Sophy Banks talks about the context of grief in relation to the landscape of trauma in her work on ‘Healthy Human Culture’.

Every Loss is Important

In a grief group it can be tempting to feel that what someone else shared is more important than what I bring. But each loss is important, a true expression of feeling. Consequently, this spectrum of different experiences, and variety of ways of expressing feelings adds value to the whole. I like the image of a jigsaw puzzle. We each bring a different piece. Through each person’s contribution, and the diversity of the group, we make up a more whole picture.

Grief Circle Agreements

Setting up a grief circle requires careful boundary setting. When we facilitate a grief circle, we make agreements with the group beforehand around self-care, confidentiality and mutual respect. This is essential so that people may feel safe enough to participate. We aim to give clear instructions about the different roles of witness and sharer. We also try to give permission for people to be able to respond to the space in a way that works for them.

Boundaries in a Grief Circle

In addition to this, we make clear boundaries about start and end times, as well as making sure we can be in a private space, where we won’t be interrupted. According to the limits of event length, allowing an equal time limit can be a helpful way of maintaining equal value of each participant.

A grief circle can work really well online, as well as in person. In both formats, we like to make a clear threshold at the beginning and end of a grief circle. We usually invite the participants to breathe or sound together so that we begin a process of attuning to one another. Silence is also valuable as we move into a grief circle, but it can also allow the group to drop into a deeper level together.

A Grief Circle is Where the Magic Happens

For me, the trust that has been created before a grief circle starts is crucial. The openness of the participants, the willingness of people to bring their vulnerability, and the capacity of the facilitator to hold the space, all add to the level of communication that the group collectively arrives at. There is also an element of mystery which it feels important to acknowledge. When people come together in a grief circle, something magical can happen. In addition to the conditions that have been set up, the dynamics of each group creates something unique.

Each Circle is Different

I have sat in circle many, many times, and each time it is different. Often there is a huge spread of different kinds of sharing, and sometimes themes emerge spontaneously. There can be a lot of difference between people or similarity. Whether it is large, or small, each circle has been valuable. And witnessing others is just as important as having a space to evoke feelings.

I am Not Alone

When we sit in a grief circle with one another, we may see how other people feel about themselves, which may help us be kinder to ourselves. When I hear that other people share my concerns for the things that are happening personally, locally or globally, it helps me to feel that I am not alone. In addition, I may gain a new perspective by recognising that it’s not just something that only I feel. It’s so easy to make judgements about others, to project our idea of who they are onto them, until we hear about their inner life, or the challenges that they are facing or the history that they carry.

Different Kinds of Sharing Circle

There are many different kinds of sharing circle. They may happen in a village, with an elder or leader, amongst peers in an existing community; or amongst strangers with a facilitator. Many different kinds of groups and organisations use this simple format, because it is as old as the hills and it works. A sharing circle may have a specific theme, such as grief, or a specific client group, such as people who live in this community, or people who have experienced bereavement recently. It is used for conflict resolution work, and for relating with others in many kinds of self-development work.

The Way of Council

‘The Way of Council’ is the format which underpins the grief focussed circles that we hold. Although in a Council, people may be invited to bring whatever is alive for them on any theme.

“The heart of these practices – of listening, learning, living and thinking like a circle – are needed now more than ever.”
Ways of Council

I echo this call for circles, the importance of listening to one another, of sitting with our truths, and the transformative power that this can have in our wider communities.

Grief Tending Often Includes a Grief Circle

In Grief Tending, a grief circle is one of the shapes we use. We may use other rituals according to the physical space, the number of participants, and the length of retreat. And in a Grief Tending circle we welcome different styles of expression, not just words.

You can find more about upcoming Grief Circles and other Grief Tending events here.

Sarah Pletts is a Grief Tender and Artist who offers workshops in London and online, sharing rituals where grief on all themes is welcome. For more information about Grief Tending see www.griefsupport.org.uk .

11 Aug Can We Write About This? Men, Sex and Feelings

Posted at 15:32h in Culture Reviews by admin 0 Comments

‘Can We Write About This? Men, Sex and Feelings’ is a podcast by Tony Pletts, featuring fizzing conversations with two brilliant writers and me.

The podcast has come out of the book Tony has written about the loving journey of our relationship, together and into consensual non-monogamy with others. The book hasn’t been published…yet. Taking his manuscript into the world has opened up a broader enquiry about why men have been reluctant to write about their personal sexual experiences and vulnerabilities, and if there is an appetite for them be published at all.

The conversations Tony has with Lucy-Anne Holmes and Monique Roffey are intelligent, provocative and fun. There’s an interview with me too if you want to hear more about what it’s like to be physically and emotionally exposed in thousands of words.

It is Tony’s honest self-reflection that makes his writing different from the bombastic hero we have come to recognise as the unreconstructed Hollywood portrayal of men’s sexuality. Tony and I make many mistakes, and he is willing to reveal our faltering steps and stumbles into emotional quick sands. Amid the steamy explicit descriptions of sex, his book is about learning by getting things wrong. Tony shows us what it is like inside his perception, and it is refreshing to hear about his awkward mis-steps. For me, he typifies ‘Daring Greatly’ (Theodore Roosevelt) via Brené Brown.

“If we are going to find our way out of shame and back to each other, vulnerability is the path and courage is the light. To set down those lists of ‘what we’re supposed to be’ is brave. To love ourselves and support each other in the process of becoming real is perhaps the greatest single act of daring greatly.” Brené Brown

I hope what Tony’s brave revelations will do is open more conversations, inspire people to acknowledge their true longings, encourage people to negotiate the shape of relationship that meets their needs, and allow others to connect with their feelings and their voice.

There’s more information about the podcast here, and You can find a link and listen to it here.

Sarah Pletts is a Grief Tender and Artist who offers workshops in London and online, sharing rituals where grief on all themes is welcome. For more information about Grief Tending events see here.

07 Aug The Shadow Side of Sunshine

Posted at 15:19h in Sarah's Journal by admin 0 Comments

“Isn’t it lovely?” My neighbour asks on my return from a glorious walk in the park in my sun hat and shades. I’m experiencing cognitive dissonance. While I may enjoy the sunshine, the consequences are far from lovely.

In the UK we have a temporate climate, and have so far been insulated from many of the more extreme weather that impacts other places on the front line of climate chaos. In the park and gardens, plants are crisping, leaves are coming down ahead of their scheduled drop. The grass in the park is bleached blonde with bald patches where footballs have scuffed the surface. A hose pipe ban is imminent.

In my life so far, the benchmark for drought was the summer of 1976. We were living in a forester’s cottage in a pine forest. Instead of a wolf, there was a Cairn Terrier. My family were sitting eating Sunday lunch when a piece of ash blew in through the open window. My father jumped up and ran out to see a wildfire leaping towards our house.

There were no fire engines available as they were all already out. My father sent me to run down the road to find a fire engine stationed at a nearby fire, and let them know we needed help. The feet that I would eventually grow into flapped along the road, and I carried out my mission with urgency.

While forty-foot flames lapped at the garage, my Dad said I could choose one precious thing. I grabbed Panda (who ironically, I would later betray by burning). Dad drove our Mini onto the lawn. The way to the road was already aflame. His most precious things were the portraits of my Great, Great, Great grandparents, which he shoved in the backseat of the car hoping they would be safe. (They’re hanging in the house I live in now, so survived the ordeal).

The house was doused with water and escaped the fire, but much of the forest burned. A team of soldiers camped in the garden for the next week to stamp out fires which sprang up having burned along tree roots like detonation cords. I was whisked out of the way to have my tonsils out, and returned to a charred landscape.

I remember the water saving measures that included sharing baths with no more than 2” of water, avoiding flushing the toilet, washing up water watering plants, and brushing my teeth in just a splash of water. I remain acutely aware of wasted water. So, I am conscious that drought is the shadow of sunshine.

If the climate is worrying you, Grief Tending can be a place where it’s possible to express ‘unloveliness’. It’s not a strategy to change what’s happening, but it can be a way to let off steam, and help stay engaged enough to continue working for change.

You can find our next Grief Tending events and links to book them here.

07 Aug The Feeling Spectrum

Posted at 06:51h in Sarah's Journal by admin 0 Comments

Where are you on the feeling spectrum? It might be helpful to imagine a scale for access to feeling responses, where 0 is no access to feelings and 10 is overwhelmed by feelings all the time. Whether we find it easy to feel or to express our feelings may change over time. When I was young, for instance, I decided I wasn’t going to be like my mother – who had a very different feeling style to me. Under-feeling and over-feeling will be responses to our own complex histories, and may include some adaptive strategies that have been helpful to us. We may also have outgrown defences that no longer serve us.

Are you the person who feels, in a family who seem to be oblivious to their pain? Perhaps you are the one who cries when the latest disaster statistic is mentioned on the news and no-one else appears to blink? How is it to feel so sensitive? Is this fragility or strength? Do you cloak your softness in tough armour? Do you create a persona that is unapproachable to disguise your tender heart?

Or are you at the other end of the feeling spectrum? Perhaps you are one of those who seem to have lost the ability to feel? Maybe something happened long ago, and you decided that it wasn’t safe to feel? Perhaps the only defence that was possible for you was to fight? As a child, did you have no choice but to disconnect, to freeze out the feelings that made you vulnerable, or split off a part of yourself in order to survive?

Whether you recognise yourself in one or the other ends of this spectrum, or somewhere in between, at a Grief Tending workshop, people may begin to look behind the strategies they have developed. Sometimes people feel safe enough to take off their masks – the necessary protective shields they wear in public. I feel privileged to have seen so many people show their un-curated selves, so different to their ‘shiny’ social media appearances.

It is extraordinary to witness long hidden truths, and real expressions of feeling. The perception is often that if my shell is cracked, I will be seen to be broken. But what often happens is that we see how each of us feels inside, which evokes our compassion. We all have places that are vulnerable – where we have been wounded, or feel unworthy. What changes everything is when we see that we are not alone in our imperfections.

Sometimes if we are willing to crack ourselves open, to look inside and process the experience, there may be strength that comes in its wake. Although I would never wish the impacts of developmental trauma on anyone, the ‘trauma growth’ that often strengthens us after we have been through our troubles, (whatever they may be) can be a gift. Working through our pain, can allow us to connect with insights, to cultivate meaning alongside the grief.

Come and explore you are on the feeling spectrum at a Grief tending workshop. You can find our next events and links to book them here.

04 Jul Hospital Curtain

Posted at 20:10h in Sarah's Journal by admin 0 Comments

This week I had a routine procedure in hospital. As I waited in a cubicle painted institutional pastel colours, I noticed a tremor of recognition. Many explicit memories – filed as linear stories – came to mind, along with implicit ones – sensations and emotions stored in the body. The hurried sound of curtain swishing on rail, and the illusion of privacy felt so familiar.

Not every hospital visit has been traumatic. Some have brought relief or comfort. Sometimes I was playing a supporting role. But I am aware of how many pivotal moments in my history have happened in or next to a hospital bed.

This has been somewhere that I have experienced initiations. Now, as I watch the light sneak onto the wall through the gap in the curtains, it reminds me of my own mortality. As I grow older, this may be somewhere I visit more often. I am at the stage of life where conversations often begin with an exchange of symptoms. This is a time for me, where there is moment of balance between having processed much of what has happened so far, with anticipating the unknown that is yet to come.

Some of the challenges in my life have arrived as sudden impacts, others have been slow burning troubles, and there are the known and unknown in the future. People bring things to a Grief Tending session from any or all of these sources of grief. Sometimes there is just a sense of absence or longing.

Sometimes there are turning points in life when you recognise that something needs to shift, and sometimes life doesn’t give you the luxury of a choice. We hope that the spaces we hold offer a safe enough space to explore all of this.

You can find our next events and links to book them here.

20 Jun Celebration Day

Posted at 21:44h in Sarah's Journal by admin 0 Comments

There are times to grieve, and when it feels right, celebrating someone’s life can be another important acknowledgement. Everyone’s different, and this might be soon after a funeral, or years later.

Celebration Day is happening this year as a dedicated opportunity to do something special to remember someone. It might be a friend, family member, or a distant ancestor. Many people already mark specific dates – perhaps a birthday or anniversary. For others, there may be a longing for a wider awareness of the cycle of life and death. The rising popularity of Halloween and Dia De Muertos (Day of the Dead) point to this upsurge in hankering for communal rituals on this theme.

Love and loss are so tightly woven together, that the invitation to honour someone’s life will also create space to grieve. I know I can feel reluctant to make time to be with feelings. The intention is to have an annual day where we can plan to pay attention to someone we love, who is no longer here.

What you might choose to do is up to you. It could be a small personal tribute, or something bigger. Perhaps it might be a part of ‘finding meaning’ for you, as a project or gathering inspired by the person who has died. David Kessler names making meaning as one of the stages of grief (that may co-exist with or follow others).

It doesn’t have to be a huge gesture. I rang family members on my Mum’s birthday. Five years on from Rob’s death we gathered and sang Bowie’s ‘Five Years’, and then read out poems that were composed by him. You can see some ways to get involved on the Celebration Day website, and an invitation to submit your ideas and plans.

Nicholas McInerny has written ‘Common People’ inspired by his friend Andrew’s final days in hospice, (imagine latex, leather and dancing!) The play had its first public reading on Celebration day.

The death of my father John was an initiation that began my enquiry into mortality. His thesis – a large orange tome with his name, “CRS Thesis 1982” on the spine has been unread on my shelf for the last 34 years. Some words underlined on the synopsis include, “talking about feelings…caring for communities…responses to major social problems…discoveries about being ill-at-ease…” I wish I could discuss our common aims now. I have decided to spend some time this Celebration Day reading some of his words. I spotted a note in his distinctive hand-writing in the margin, which still has the power to catch at my heart. I have poured him a brandy, and picked a rose from the garden in his honour too.

We’re also hold regular Grief Tending workshops, in case you’re not yet ready to celebrate.

31 May Crossing the Owl’s Bridge

Posted at 20:17h in Book Reviews by admin 0 Comments

Kim Bateman’s ‘Crossing the Owl’s Bridge: A Guide for Grieving People Who Still Love’, is in itself a bridge between myth and real-life stories. With examples of folk tales from different cultures, Bateman takes us through the experiential processes that are shown symbolically in the narratives.

“As I began looking around at different cultures, and particularly their stories, I found that this theme of the loss of the physical coupled with a continued relationship in the imaginal is ubiquitous.”

Bateman correlates traditional tales with the stories of people who have experienced tragic losses and deep grief, and how they began their work of dealing with bereavement. Many of these short personal testimonies are heart-rending.

While grieving, the process she describes is for the bereaved to “create the symbols or rituals that you need to create a bridge – a bridge between you and your loved one.” This work of making-meaning, like the heroine Nyctea in one story, of bringing memories and mementos of a life together, can be helpful in actively coming to terms with, and changing the relationship with the person who has died.

Kim Bateman works with people who have lost their dear ones; she understands the initiation that bereavement can be. Her wise words come out of both personal experience, years offering grief work, and by listening to the sense below traditional folk tales. In the altered, liminal, non-linear grief space, myth and imagination can be really helpful tools to transform our relationships with the dead, whatever our beliefs.

She describes ‘Singing over bones’, which is also the title of her Tedx Talk.
“This mythologizing, or piecing together of memories, pictures, objects, among other things, is one of the ways in which the evaporated person takes form again.” I recognise this from the creative ways I have honoured my own ancestors’ belongings and histories.

Through acknowledging, being with, and tending to our losses, we may traverse through ‘the abyss’, and begin a journey of growing ourselves to be able to live with grief.

For our next Grief Tending events, please see here.

15 May Journeys from an Absent Present to a Lost Past

Posted at 17:45h in Culture Reviews by admin 0 Comments

Imagine a streetscape the size of a doll’s house. In ‘Journeys from an Absent Present to a Lost Past’ an exhibition at Fabrica, in Brighton, Mohamed Hafez has crafted beautiful miniature installations, that transport the viewer to an urban Syrian landscape. Each tiny environment shows everyday traces of local life. Washing hangs in the street, a car is parked outside a front door, a satellite dish rusts on the roof.

Mohamed Hafez, Syrian born architect and artist living in the USA, began making model environments to soothe his homesickness. First because of a post 9/11 travel ban, and then as a result of the war in Syria, he is no longer able to go back to the home that he remembers. He recreates the Damascus of his memories. “There’s always that emotional longing to go home,” he says.

Understanding the power of art to both express and work with the grief of loss, Hafez makes meaning by communicating something of the migrant experience. Speaking in a short film that accompanies the exhibition, Hafez reminds us “that life is fragile”. Hafez wants to capture our attention with his exquisite model images, “I like to be sneaky, because you know, that’s how crises happen in our lives. They sneak up on us.”

I recall there have been three brief moments in my life so far, when I faced the possibility of losing my home, but I have never had to confront losing my homeland. For me, contemplating this surfaces empathy for those who are in more precarious situations.

In Syria, crisis is ongoing. These tiny fragments of old Damascus streets invite us to see a knotted global issue from ‘another’s shoes’. An interactive element of the exhibition invites visitors to consider ‘What is home to you?’ I am aware that it is often only away from home that we really come to know the answer. I think of the familiar smell of Hackney’s green and grime that greets me after time elsewhere.

See here for next Grief Tending events.

15 May Earth Ritual

Posted at 17:37h in Sarah's Journal by admin 1 Comment

It is a beautiful day. The sun is shining. Windows and back doors are open. I can hear the boy next door calling to his friend’s Dad in the garden on the other side of us. I feel deeply rooted in this place, and enjoy the friendly connections between people and pets.

I have just returned from a gathering of friends, where conversation about melting glaciers and soil quality sit nestled with tales of frivolity and pleasure. I decide this is a good moment to complete the Earth ritual I have been preparing.

My deep time ancestors would have known rites for honouring the earth, been aware of Mother Nature’s generosity. They would have known how to live, in right-relationship with resources, been in awe of the elements, but I am still finding my way.

This is a practice I have learned from Francis Weller, to offer gratitude to the Earth, in response to ‘The Sorrows of the World’ (from his ‘Gates of Grief’). I have made an intuitive selection of small clay totems – a Beech leaf, a flower, an acorn, a Cowrie shell, a tooth, and a small bowl. I have inscribed “My tears are for…” on the bowl to symbolise the sadness I find hard to express.

In the face of the changes that are happening – weather disruption, bio diversity loss, and carbon emissions, it is easy to feel hopeless. I am working to remain in relationship with the natural world, and my grief, as I recognise my inter-being with the more than human world. A practice of giving thanks and offering gifts can foster this connection. It is a micro action in the face of a prevalent ‘extractive’ attitude to our planet.

Under the magnificent magnolia tree, I dig a hole. Ginger Girl – the cat from next door, (who regularly appears for on-line Grief Tending workshops) shows up. I place my clay offerings into the hole while chanting. Ginger Girl, after inspecting my work, turns to squat. A stream of yellow liquid fills the small bowl. These were not the salt tears I imagined, but present an image of a different kind of regenerative cycle. She then turns back again and scrabbles with her front paws, neatly filling the hole with earth again. She then sits looking satisfied. We both look up, as two of our regular squirrels travel across the branches of the tree above us. I offer apple, oats and incense as further blessings, feeling nature’s magic alive in me.

See here for next Grief Tending events.

Further documentary evidence of the story described in the text of this post

Ginger Girl participates in my Earth Ritual

20 Apr See No Stranger

Posted at 13:34h in Book Reviews by admin 0 Comments

‘See No Stranger: A Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love’ by Valarie Kaur invites us to see each person “as a part of me I do not yet know.”

This book takes us through the journey Valarie Kaur has made from innocent girl to social justice activist. It is an extraordinary trajectory, informed at every step by her Sikh faith. The ethics of her forbears meet the rise of both terrorism and racism in modern America.

Despite increasing professional accomplishments, Kaur retains the ability to relate simply and communicate directly. She learns through personal connections, and expands this sense of family outwards.
“As I move through my day and come across faces on the street or subway or on a screen, I say in my mind, Sister. Brother. Sibling. Aunt. Uncle.”

This is not a soft-hearted plea from a sensitive utopian. Kaur puts her philosophy of revolutionary love into practice in the streets, with breath taking courage. Do not be deceived, she is someone who understands the need to grieve and rage in safe containers in the face of injustice.

See No Stranger is a book of wise words that takes us through the steps required to ‘re-imagine’ the world through the tasks of acknowledging violence, grieving together, tending our wounds, listening, and breathing until we are able to reconnect through wonder.

Kaur takes us to some of the locations where these practices are most needed, in the aftermath of violent racist attacks. She documents the impacts of a society where the divisions of ‘us’ and ‘them’ proliferate.

In a world that can often leave me feeling powerless, and overwhelmed, she offers us a practical philosophy to bring people together. This book, she suggests is, “for anyone who feels breathless.” If that sense of fear, impotence or distress is making your breath come fast and shallow, I recommend See No Stranger as food for inspiration. And if you are ready to enquire, ask yourself, “What does this demand of me?”

Follow this link for next Grief Tending events.