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As human beings, we are all grieving. Some grieve loudly through addictions, with their pain spilling out, making a mess. Others hide it and push it down into their body.

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We may think we must grieve in silence and that it's so personal that others don't go through it. So we try and hide what we feel even when the grief and loss can feel scary at times like our heart is about to break beyond repair.

It takes a lot of energy to hold down and conceal what is.

Like a comfortable old armchair, we fall back onto our defense mechanisms that pretend to keep us protected from feeling pain. It's a double-edged sword as this false sense of safety is only temporary because when grief is not given its full expression, it manifests in other ways.

At these times, rather than repeating old, seemingly safe patterns, we must somehow find the courage and the will to feel our pain by moving toward it.

As the great poet Rumi once said, "Move fearlessly into your heart, for there in your heart is your pain, and in your pain is your medicine - the cure for all that ails you."

Some of us can't live from our hearts because it's too painful and suffocating. It's like walking into a room so cluttered and filled with old stuff from a past that's unfinished.

You can't breathe in there.

Ferocity is needed to throw all your clutter onto a bonfire, including your old comfortable armchair.

That's the potent thing about grief: when you allow it to flow, it helps you to finish, clear the internal noise, and finish off the past.

As human beings, we are grieving all the time. We are still grieving our childhoods, lost jobs, lost opportunities, past traumas, our youth, forgotten loves, lost pets, departed friendships, parents that died years ago, mourning old dreams.

It takes great courage to face the immense fragility of one's own heart, at times just the thought of letting everyone in feels like you might explode into a thousand pieces.

Give yourself time to grieve, cry hard, weep deeply, sob shamelessly, and let it go.

Let it go.

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Hang your head low and let the shoulders drop; slump into it if that helps to allow the emotions to bubble up. And when you sob, sob loud, let yourself make loud throaty noises and let the belly move in and out just like how a baby would cry.

Don't hold back weep fearlessly and authentically like a child.

You might find that you deal with your emotions in the same way as the parent you identified with the most. I remember seeing my father cry only once as a young girl, and when he cried, he had his head face down, cradled in his arms at the kitchen table, and he sobbed so profoundly and openly that it gives me chills still thinking about it.

In that moment as a young girl, I knew even though it was only the one time I saw him cry, I sensed intuitively the importance of not only feeling pain but allowing it to move through, and since I never shied away from pain, my own or others.

Rather than run away from your pain, run into it, and affirm I want to know my pain and become best friends with it. I want to see and feel the unknown.

If only we could cultivate this level of curiosity about our suffering, we could move through it by using it as fuel for spiritual sustenance and learn what it truly means to be Spirit appearing in human form.

This is what Thich Nhat Hanh meant when he said, "When we know how to suffer, we suffer much, much less."

Please take the time to grieve what's unfinished for you.

Cry for the sake of crying just because you can.

In a society where we weep mostly behind closed doors, muffled tissues and wipe back the tears with a shrug of the shoulders like it's nothing openly, let your tears flow!

Let your tears finish the past. It feels so good to cry, to let it flow, and to let it go.

Let it out, shout it out, and grieve it out.

Let go because just when you think you are about to drown in your tears, you will be saved.

Tears are your cleansing gift. They refresh and restore feelings of hope and allow for the emergence of the new.

During these challenging times, we are fortunate to have a profound spiritual text like A Course in Miracles to help lead us through difficult situations.

Even when you may feel isolated, it's important to remember that you are never truly alone. Even in the midst of profound grief, a spiritual energy is with you, guiding, comforting, and looking after you.

In your darkest hour, I urge you to lean solely on prayer and know that the sun will again shine. In that spark of light, the Miracle is shining and singing to you, leading you out of dreaming.

"Miracles are everyone's right, but purification is necessary first."

(T-1.I.7:1)

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© 2021 Dakini Wild

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If you’re feeling overwhelmed by grief and loss, please know you’re not alone. Consider reaching out to Dakini for a nurturing "Healing for the Soul" session on Zoom. This one-on-one experience is intuitively guided to offer you comfort and support during these difficult times. To schedule your session and begin your healing journey, you can easily book your appointment here.