A gift of community and belonging
This space affirmed the blessing of gathering intentionally together.
On Saturday, I was gifted the beautiful opportunity to attend a drum birthing ceremony at Threshold Collective, a community space in Philadelphia offering practical and holistic end-of-life support.
As everyone gathered and settled in, one seat remained empty. Our guide and drum doula, the radiant-hearted and Earth-wise Mia Luz, kept checking her email for messages from our missing participant. She asked if any of us knew her. We didn’t. We waited and waited and then began our journey of crafting our sacred drums without her.
Later in the morning, the puzzle was finally solved. Our absent drum maker had signed up for our ceremony thinking she was registering for one the following day. Mia would see her on Sunday. But rather than clear her space and put away the chair reserved for her, we agreed it should remain. Maybe we could all take turns sitting there throughout the day. Maybe it would be the space to bring us a message, hold some resonance or energy to support us in our drum birthing.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when during lunch, our host Catherine, one of the founders of Threshold Collective, ushered a woman upstairs to meet us. She had been walking by, noticed the flyer for the workshop on the door and rang the buzzer. And though we were halfway through our day, though we did not have enough materials for her to make her own drum, Catherine invited her in and she came, trusting she was meant to be there.
I remember looking up when Catherine announced her arrival and tears filling my eyes. I did not know what she carried that had led her to us. Inspired her to sink so willingly and generously into the container that had already been woven, but I knew she belonged. We all did, as we gathered her in with smiles and hugs and conversation. We embraced that her being there was part of the magic we all needed and trusted that she, too, would be met with whatever medicine called her to us.
Every time I looked her way, whenever I talked to her, as Catherine showed her around and we all welcomed the parts of her story she chose to share, in the moments I caught her wiping tears from her eyes, as her laughter billowed across the room, as her body eased into simply being…I felt a welling tenderness and gratitude. And I marveled, too, at her boldness, at the bravery that had made her vulnerable enough to knock at a door in city where she didn’t live. To seek out something she sensed was seeking her. To let herself be enfolded by the unfolding as we enfolded her.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our time together, which was powerful and nourishing for so many reasons beyond this glorious woman’s appearance. And yet she seemed to be the exclamation point on our day, or maybe a walking blessing and affirmation: This is how we create community. This is caring for each other. These are the spaces we need.
Spaces where we can come together with all that is wilted and hurting and whole and miraculous within us and be met as we are. Where we can show up and find a smile to warm us. An arm to encircle us. A chorus of voices waiting to chime our names, to call us to belonging. Where we can soften into each other’s eyes, ripen into some gift we may not have realized was ours to offer.
Perhaps I am thinking even more of this moment as the second Annual Grief-in-Public Day arrives this month, a day to elevate the global grief crisis by gathering together in public spaces to share and honor our sorrows. By working together to affirm the necessity and vitality of community grief spaces. By taking our hearts, our creativity, our passion to breathe new and larger alternatives to the existing paradigm of grief as private. Grief dismissed and denied. Grief pushed through and gotten over. Grief stigmatized and pathologized. Instead of being welcomed as the natural human experience it is.
To grieve together is salve for navigating these tumultuous times. How we learn to carry and express our personal and collective losses with greater compassion for ourselves and each other, as we remember we’re not alone. It’s also how we tap into a depth of greater, indigenous knowing: that we once lived like this, buoyed by and bound to community. That we know how to grieve. That to create a space of welcome for another is to welcome, too, the parts of our selves that we may have abandoned, shamed or judged.
Yes, it may be daunting and uncomfortable to risk that kind of vulnerability, to trust in our worthiness to be met there. And, oh, what a gift, to follow the heart’s deep longing and find ourselves held and seen by a circle that thrums “We’re so very glad you’re here.”
**Stay tuned to learn more about the upcoming community grief ritual Salt Trails will hold from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. Sunday, April 23, in Philadelphia, to honor Annual Grief-in-Public Day.
An invitation to tend your grief
So often when we’re grieving, the last person we make room for is ourselves. Give yourself the gift of your own compassionate attention with this free, one-hour workshop presented by Rise Gatherings. You’ll have space to check in with your heart and what your grief may be needing with gentle guidance and support.
Register here. (Note, I will also be holding space for grief at Rise Gatherings’ 2023 Weekend Getaway, a beautiful three-day retreat in the Pocono Mountains Sept. 29-Oct. 1. You can save $50 off your registration with the promo code naila23 here)
Monthly in-person grief support
This monthly, in-person grief care offering invites space to speak and express our sorrows and to connect with each other while leaning into support. Sessions may include meditation, journaling, ritual and other nourishing practices and are held at a beautiful wellness center nestled in the woods in Rittenhouse Town, Philadelphia. Sign up here to join me.
Come walk and write in the woods
I’m very much looking forward to the chance to share the therapeutic tools of poetry and writing with you amid nature’s healing bounty at Natural Lands’ beautiful Hildacy Preserve in May. We’ll gather to write, reflect and walk together. Learn more and register here.
Guided by Grief returns
This six-week series to help you transform your relationship to grief includes wisdom teachings, meditation and embodied practices, journaling, ritual and gentle movement. We meet virtually once a week to learn how to navigate grief with more compassion, grace and trust in the process. Limited to 9 participants, including one free BIPPOC scholarship. Email naila@thishallowedwilderness.com for scholarship applications.