In praise of beauty in times of peril
Engaging wonder and gratitude can be salve for our eco-grief.
Catastrophic.
The word appeared in every daily news round-up email I receive, in every story referencing the recent historical floods in Vermont and New York.
And while of course, it is apt — for a 1-in-1000-year rainfall with waters rising to the ceilings of some buildings and threatening lives — for some reason reading it gave me pause.
We are living in catastrophic times, where almost every week brings dire warnings, deadly weather patterns and epic disasters. That our planet is in peril is a grief many of us know intimately. Yet it’s also a grief that can overwhelm and immobilize.
When we’re faced with relentless wildfire seasons, erupting volcanoes, ravaging earthquakes and tornadoes, extreme heat and the other accelerating effects of climate change, including the toll on marine animals, wildlife, plants and other species, how do we cope with a disappearing world? Can we find hope in the midst of calamity? How do we hold our despair and our love without the former eroding the latter?
I do not have all the answers but as a grief worker, I am being asked more and more to speak to eco-grief and how to navigate the losses affecting our natural world. In an interview recently published in Reckoning, a journal of creative writing on environmental justice, I emphasized the value of both naming and feeling this grief. Of giving our sorrows language and shape and sound. To name what breaks our hearts can be an invitation to care, to show up with more compassion and tenderness for ourselves and each other and this besieged and burning world.
It can be daunting to let ourselves feel the weight of so much to mourn and yet the alternative — to shut down, to grow cold and numb, to avert our gaze and our hearts from what hurts — leaves little room for inspired action and change. In our everyday lives, in our activism, opening to our grief can also open us to feeling our life force more potently, an animation that calls us to dare, imagine and dream in ways that would otherwise remain locked to our fearful minds and hearts. We must leave the known, confront the chaos and the endings, no matter how terrifying, to make room for what wants to emerge. Honor death as the fiercest of invitations to create new life. Whether we are raging or weeping, I think it’s vital to embrace our grief, as it will continue to be a companion in these challenging times that are certain to bring more dissolution and destruction.
As I repeatedly read of the catastrophic flooding that has left many communities under a state of emergency, it wasn’t sorrow that claimed me, at least not the despondent vision of sorrow our culture traditionally holds. That wasn’t that compelled me to pick up my drum and begin singing. That prodded me later into the woods where I could thrill to the sounds of water splashing over rocks, birds chirping high in the scarlet oaks and tulip poplars, the trees themselves a choir of green-tongued kin.
What I felt was joy and wonder and a deep desire to praise this beautiful world. To drink in the slant of sun on the creek, delight in the pops of orange drooping from jewel weed blossoms, laugh at scampering chipmunks and lift my face to every scent and sight of wild aliveness teeming all around.
Author and shaman Martín Prechtel writes, “Grief is praise, because it is the natural way love honors what it misses.”
Yes, sometimes tears are my immediate response to the natural disasters befalling different parts of the planet almost daily. My heart grows heavy. The only words I can find are ache-filled, an all-too familiar lament.
But sometimes my grief looks like praise. An honoring and celebration of the magnificence that’s still here, the splendor that may be disappearing even as I behold it.
My grief looks like bringing my reverence and gratitude to nature and our more-than-human kin. Leaning into trees and stones and water, with love and humility, and wondering what they might have to say about all this catastrophe, all this grief. What wisdom might they offer for carrying it? What can they teach us about deeper practices of care and collective dreaming, about being in life-giving relationship with the eco-systems that sustain us?
What if we approached nature not just to extract and enjoy but to give something back to her, too? Our songs, our prayers, our dancing, our devotion, our willingness to slow down long enough to pay attention to what she wants us to see?
In many shamanic and indigenous cultures, including the Andean tradition I’ve apprenticed in, the “the ritual feeding” of the Earth is a common and sacred practice. Offerings including tobacco, corn and other grains, seeds, flowers, food, blood and more are given to the land in gratitude for all she gives us. As an act of reciprocity honoring our interdependence and also as a practice for attuning to the wisdom of the natural world.
For me, walking the Earth with such intentionality and awe is also an invitation to presence — which is also what we tap into when we invite our grief in and give it room to be. We cultivate presence, a capacity that deepens over time, allowing us to stand at the edge of the darkness and still praise each small shimmer that calls us to love what is here.
Save these dates for our community grief rituals
Salt Trails, a collective of grief and death workers, healers, artists and ministers, was founded in 2021 to offer public grief spaces to witness and validate each other’s sorrows, encourage ritual as part of our healing and destigmatize and normalize the varied experiences of grief while reminding us we are not alone. Follow us on Instagram and Facebook to stay up-to-date on our offerings.
Join me in the Poconos
Join me September 29 - October 1 for Rise Gatherings Weekend Getaway in the beautiful Pocono Mountains.
This unique weekend for women offers special opportunities for learning, connecting, playing and resting. Pre-register for four workshops of your choice from an array of offerings for mind, body and spirit, including my own grief-writing workshop. (I’ll also be offering one-on-one grief medicine sessions.)
Enjoy inspirational and inclusive movement and meditation classes, nourishing meals, breathtaking lake views, healing treatments and more!
Come connect with yourself and other women in this vibrant, welcoming space surrounded by nature. And save $50 off your registration ticket when you use the promo code NAILA23.
Learn more and sign up here.
Work with me in nature
If you’re feeling stuck, overwhelmed, misunderstood or uncertain how to navigate your grief, I offer one-on-one grief coaching sessions, which can be done virtually or in person.
But I also offer grief walks in the woods near my home, where nature is our healing container and you can listen for her wisdom while exploring your grief. My ritual offerings include guiding you through the creation of a despacho (prayer bundle) to honor your losses and make an offering of thanksgiving to the Earth, or the building of an apacheta to release some of the heaviness you are carrying in a ceremony that honors our sacred stone allies.
To learn more, book your free, 30-minute consultation here.