Book Reviews

18 Apr The Year of Magical Thinking

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Joan Didion is an articulate writer, with enough resources to assume that she can control her life. In ‘The Year of Magical Thinking’, she is knocked by the reality of grief and the bewilderment it causes, as she finds her way through new circumstances.

‘The Year of Magical Thinking’ is worth reading. She describes books on grief as “a body of sub-literature, how-to guides for dealing with the condition, some “practical” some “inspirational”, most of either useless.” This book is not self-help, but realistic, and written with enough vulnerability to be inspiring. She uses her writer’s craft to turn a mirror on her experience of sudden loss.
“You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.”

Didion examines the skips and foibles of her cognitive process (a normal part of the experience of grieving). She is a keen observer describing the liminal place of the recently bereaved.
“I myself felt invisible for a period of time, incorporeal.”

We see ourselves entitled to a fair portion of trouble, but grief does not land in people’s lives equally. In ‘The Year of Magical Thinking’, Didion writes through a double portion.

I read books on grief, not just because I have a professional interest in them, but because I too have a magical thought process that predicts that if I learn enough about dying, each new loss will be easier.

“I realise how open we are to the persistent message that we can avert death,” Didion says. My own curiosity is itself part talisman to ward off mortality.

See Grief Tending workshops for grief of all kinds online and in London 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.

02 Apr Earth Grief

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Reading ‘Earth Grief’ by Stephen Harrod Buhner was for me an experience of being in the feelings evoked by the territory of ecological loss. It begins with a dive into being earth. He uses the language of connection, rather than evoking the separation so common of science.

As the pages turned, I was engaged, disturbed, then relieved, concluding with a deep sense of peace. Stephen Harrod Buhner’s invitation is to step into the painful reality of receiving a collective terminal diagnosis. He describes:

“…the grief, pain, depression, and hopelessness we feel are not the problem (despite the soul-shattering impact of those feelings). They are symptoms of the problem. And it is the problem itself that we must face if we wish to address the crisis of our times…a crisis that exists out there in the wildness of the world as well [as] in here in the secret chambers of our own hearts.”

Like Vanessa Andreotti’s ‘Hospicing Modernity’, really opening to hearing the words in ‘Earth Grief’ takes courage. Yet the wisdom and truth-telling I found here also felt settling. I chose not to read the middle section at night. Instead, I titrated my way through felt but not often absorbed information. It is distressing and affecting to read of the irreversible impacts of micro-plastics, of pharmaceuticals, of extractive and exploitative industries. My strategy was to read the book in manageable doses with lots of resourcing.

Through the analogy of the personal loss of a beloved, Stephen Harrod Buhner guides us through a similar process with grief for the earth. He describes the dismantling of our inner world in the face of loss, and the slow process of transformation.

In ‘Earth Grief’, Buhner challenges the layers of denial that I cling to in the face of what is happening in ourselves, in our climate and in our planet. As with the work of ‘Deep Adaptation’, there is potential for joy, wisdom, purpose on the other side of feeling earth grief.

Humans are returned by Stephen Harrod Buhner to their rightful place as reciprocal beings with plants – whose extraordinary journeys over millennia breathe life into our world as we flounder. This is a reminder of interbeing in a more-than-human world, that humans too are of the earth, not above nature. For me this is a reminder of David Abram‘s writing.

If Earth Grief is the diagnosis, a shift in perspective to find collaborative connections with other plants and beings is necessary. Grief practices that tend without fixing are the medicine. When we allow grief to take our world apart, to grow and re-configure us, we become able to hold others, and find what is uniquely ours to do.

Grief Tending spaces welcome grief on all themes, including earth grief. We offer events online and in London and Devon.

15 Sep ‘Tending Grief’

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Camille Sapara Barton’s ‘Tending Grief’ presents a passionate argument for why Grief Tending spaces are needed in these changing times. It includes a section of embodied exercises to tend grief.

Camille Sapara Barton began to identify the need for tending grief as a young activist and in social justice movements.
“Tending grief can support flexible thinking, conflict resolution, trust building and somatic transformation within groups…”

Camille Sapara Barton describes the route from the collective wounds of colonisation and its legacies to the complexities of systemic trauma that are playing out in global issues today. In order to move from a culture of consumption and exploitation to a culture of care, we need to find our way back.

Tending our grief can help us to make that journey. The route from disconnection with nature, splits between mind and body, action and emotion begin here.
“We need to feel. To slow down and sense what is happening. To grieve and understand what has been lost so that we can begin to assess how to move in a different direction, not simply repeat the behaviors that have led us to this place.”

Building on the approach of the Dagara people – through Sobonfu and Malidoma Somé – who “see regular grief tending as necessary for the health of the community,” Camille Sapara Barton makes the link between untended personal grief, and how that can ripple out to impact our communities.

This book is emotionally intelligent and presents a clear map forward. Camille Sapara Barton weaves their own story and understanding with insights gathered from other writers and teachers. The second half of the book offers a series of practical exercises to explore at home or with a peer group.

I’m really grateful for this book, which is already finding its way to diverse communities of young people facing uncertainty and anxiety in the face of a changing climate, war, systems of harm, and so many other challenges. ‘Tending Grief’ offers both the framework of why we need it, and practical exercises to begin the work of Grief Tending.

If you are ready to tend your grief in a group, you can find more information and events both online and in London here. We also offer Queer Grief Tending at Queer Circle.

The textile in the photograph is an Aboriginal design from Better World Arts.

03 Sep The Lonely Planet’s Guide to Death, Grief and Rebirth

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‘The Lonely Planet’s Guide to Death, Grief and Rebirth’ by Anita Isalska is a delicious buffet, to inspire the armchair traveller. It shows glimpses into a wide variety of global beliefs, customs and cultures focussing on death and mourning.

Unlike the usual format of a Lonely Planet Guide, this is thematic and informative, without the specific information needed for a trip. It is a delightful feast of colourful images and intriguing facts, like this one.
“A single human cremation produces as much carbon dioxide as an 800km car journey.”

‘The Lonely Planet’s Guide to Death, Grief and Rebirth’ tempts with travel destinations; where fascinating events take place at the end of a life. However, this book is also a provocation to consider how we will face our own end. A visit to Varanasi in India for example may be “a visceral reminder of the ultimate destination of life in a world that prefers to keep mortality from view.” And the book includes wise cautions that death tourism requires respect, sensitivity and serendipity.

For those who have grown up without traditions that feel supportive, there are plenty of other ways of being with loss named here. Different and sometimes more universal possibilities for grieving, and honouring our loved ones are gathered in by Anita Isalska, with an invitation to the possibility of exploring more openness around endings.
“Whether it’s an annual event, a support group or a place of remembrance (a monument or cemetery), being present with others who are experiencing loss can be a powerful way to reduce the loneliness of grieving.

This guide surveys some of the broader faith-based traditions. It also covers some of the practices that are being reimagined for a generation seeking more conscious ways to mourn; such as keening in Ireland and the re-emergence of death doulas.

In the contemporary grief theory of ‘Continuing Bonds’ (Klass, Silverman and Nickman) in which it is normal to have an ongoing relationship with deceased loved ones, modern psychology is playing catch up with “Mexico’s flourishing death culture”. And in Madagasca where “the natural instinct to communicate with, and care for, the dead can find expression and relief.” A relationship with ancestors “where loving bonds remain strong even after death,” is integral to many of the cultures in the book.

So many of the funerary practices described link both the past to present and the dead to the living in ways that help us to recognise we are all inescapably part of the cycle of life…and death. This book will be both food for thought as well as food for our ‘wise and well ancestors’.

Grief Tending in community, (which doesn’t get a mention in the book) is informed by the old ways of the Dagara Tribe in Burkina Faso. Find Grief Tending events happening in the UK, and online. They can also be found in many places around the world.

03 Sep It’s OK That You’re Not OK

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Megan Devine’s excellent book ‘It’s OK Not to be OK‘, tells how it is to grieve in a culture that avoids talking about death. She speaks plainly about the experience of sudden traumatic loss, and what may be behind the facade we show in public.

“No matter what anyone says, this sucks. What happened cannot be made right.”

‘It’s Ok That You’re Not Ok’ is also a primer for those who want to know how to navigate grief, and how to be with someone who is grieving. Megan Devine’s voice is refreshing. She speaks out in praise of “telling the truth about grief.” She makes clear the “wider cultural sweep of grief illiteracy”, and what we need to face, both personally, and more widely to bring about change.

In addition to the impacts that cause grief, other people’s mis-perceptions, and anxiety add insult to injury. This book invites us to look more closely at what’s behind the acceptable face of bereavement.

“Because we don’t talk about the reality of loss, many grieving people think that what’s happening to them is strange, weird, or wrong.” In addition to the grief stories Megan Devine listens to as a therapist, she also hears, “how painful it is to be judged, dismissed and misunderstood.”

The consequences of a pain-phobic culture results in widespread avoidance from facing global issues as well as personal situations, to our detriment. The argument that Megan Devine presents as our collective disconnect is essential to address for the wider good.

I would argue that Grief Tending in community is one of many much-needed antidotes. However, if being in a group process feels unmanageable at the moment, ‘It’s OK That You’re Not OK’ is a book that offers some practical ways to survive. She encourages us to look for support, and explore creative expression to tend to grief, rather than look for solutions to fix it.

One of the questions that people often ask is, “What should you say to someone who’s grieving?” The final section of the book presents a verbal took kit to answer that question. Whether you want to understand more about our systemic discomfort with grief, are dealing with loss and need a role-model, or want to learn the skills to be a better companion to those who grieve, this is a brilliant read.

Find Grief Tending events in London and online here, where we work with our own feelings in response to loss, change and absence, together in a group.

03 Sep Braiding Sweetgrass

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In ‘Braiding Sweetgrass’, Robin Wall Kimmerer weaves together a practical understanding of indigenous teachings with environmental science, and stories of parenting. Her eye as a biologist, love and respect for plant, creature, and place meet her heart as a mother living through challenging times.

Recognising the richness of her heritage, (she is a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation), she invites us to grasp what has been lost through the deliberate repression and separation of Indigenous American people from their children in former generations, and what is now being reclaimed.

The stories in ‘Braiding Sweetgrass’, both handed down, re-told, and told anew, with her fresh perspective show the importance of living in right-relationship with land and the more-than-human world. The profound knowledge learned from nature is not exclusively for Shamans. This book reveals a way to experience deeply through observation, paying attention and inquiry. I was enchanted.

As I read this book, the significance of the ‘Honourable Harvest’ – taking only what you need – sunk in deeper as I foraged for berries, leaving half for other creatures and regeneration. This is book written with beautiful words that drew me in through descriptions of relatable encounters with nature. The sweet and sour of her insights make me look more closely as I step through the forest, nestle my feet in moss, watch rain-drops. I will drizzle maple syrup with a new reverence.

She does not shy away from these changing times:
“If grief can be a doorway to love, then let us all weep for the world we are breaking apart so we can love it back to wholeness again.” I am left feeling inspired and hopeful that we may learn to live in wise community with others of all species.

You can find Grief Tending events, which foster connection with nature and each other here.

03 Sep The Last Ecstasy of Life

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Anam-Áire means one who cares for the soul. ‘The Last Ecstasy of Life – Celtic Mysteries of Death and Dying’, written by Phyllida Anam-Áire describes her approach to doing just this. She offers gentle guidance for those at the end of life, from her experience of sitting with the dying. She is now a therapist and author.

I have participated with Phyllida online, heard the music in her speech, and seen her gentle encouragement of people. She grew up in Ireland, became a nun, and then took a more mystic path away from the Catholic Church. She moved to Northern Ireland, worked with Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and developed her practice. She now lives in Scotland. Reading the words on the page, I hear her brogue, remember her assured presence.

Here she offers a metaphysical perspective steeped in the old Celtic ways, known as the ‘Cauldron of Brigid’. She teaches both living fully and dying consciously. Her very particular flavour weaves her understanding of life and death, in spiritual language with wise guidance and visualisations. She focuses on the energetic non-visible processes as death comes near.

Phyllida Anam-Áire encourages the reader to attend to their inner work, to process grief in order to live well ahead of our dying days. Key to this is the Celtic vision of the ‘Universal Heart’. Once we have found self-compassion, we can access a wider compassionate experience of love. She says “This opening into grief is the most important part of recognising the presence of the Universal Heart for, like joy, which cohabits with grief, it is always there, awaiting the unveiling and expressing of grief to reveal its presence.”

I like the emphasis she places on reclaiming our shadow parts and finding self-compassion; looking at our own grief and fears in order to become a non-judgmental compassionate witness to others. ‘The Last Ecstasy’ of the title is also a reclamation of the potential of shame-free pleasure in the body, and as a transformational framing of both birth and death.

Find Grief Tending events with Sarah and Tony Pletts and the Embracing Grief team coming up here.

31 May Crossing the Owl’s Bridge

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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.

20 Apr See No Stranger

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‘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.

20 Apr The Red of My Blood

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‘The Red of My Blood: A Death and Life Story’ tells the story of the first year of grief. Clover Stroud writes about mourning the death of her sister. She captures the paradox of being both with deep feelings and the continuation of everyday family life; where children need feeding and attending to.

Clover Stroud writes her loss from the inside out. With metaphor and through her senses, we are invited into her inner world. She shows us glimpses of the pain of losing a sibling in middle age.

It is easy to misconstrue Kubler-Ross’s 5 Stages of Grief (plus Kessler’s = 6) as following each in neat order, but Stroud reminds us: “The path alongside death is crooked, remember. There are no consequential stages which happen one after the other, neatly, like dominoes falling.”

I love the permission that Stroud’s memoir gives to recognise the depth of love that mirrors the loss, in relationship with her sister. The death of a partner or child is seen as very significant, but grief follows in the wake of the death of anyone we love, as well as an infinite range of other life situations. “The truth is that the death and therefore loss of someone you love deeply is so awful you have to rearrange your brain dramatically to survive it.”

Writing during 2020, the pandemic adds an additional layer, as Stroud describes collective loss through lens of home schooling and changes in meeting with friends.

Describing grief as an “active verb”, Clover allows us into her own process. She sometimes faces towards the inevitability of death, and also the desire to escape from the reality that “none of us are getting out of here alive,” (to quote Nanea Hoffman via Stroud).

For me, through reading and feeling alongside the hurt of grief allows me to practice stretching my heart muscles. If you are currently inside your own experience of deep grief, Clover Stroud’s beautiful words may be able to reach out to tenderly hold your hand in recognition. She tells of her rituals and strategies, that allow her to begin to alchemise pain when it feels impossible. “The shrine of hard little objects were things to clasp, when the caverns of loss opened up and life felt as if it was sliding out of reach.”

Follow link for next Grief Tending events.