Understanding Grief as an Initiation
Honoring Loss as a Sacred Journey
We aren’t taught how to grieve.
In a culture that values getting things done, staying positive, and “bouncing back,” there’s often little space for the slow, aching truth of loss. Until it comes for us—through the death of someone we love, the rupture of a relationship, a diagnosis, or a future that disappears overnight—we may not understand how deep grief goes. And once it arrives, it doesn’t care about timelines or tidy stages. It changes us.
Grief is not a problem to solve. It’s not something to get over. It’s an initiation—a doorway into a deeper way of being. Grief opens us to the truth that everything we love is impermanent. And in that raw awareness, it invites us into intimacy with life in a way we may have never known before.
The Many Faces of Grief
Grief doesn’t show up the same way for everyone. Sometimes it’s loud—sobbing in the shower, rage that comes out sideways, or a deep sense of being unmoored. Other times it’s quiet—fatigue that doesn’t lift, a strange numbness, or forgetting why you walked into a room. It can feel like time has stopped, or that you’re somehow both here and not here.
You might notice:
• A sense of unreality, like you’re moving through a fog
• Sleeplessness or exhaustion that no amount of rest can touch
• Emotions that come in waves—sorrow, rage, relief, confusion, even moments of gratitude
• A feeling of being in between worlds—no longer who you were, not yet who you’re becoming
• The ache of absence—longing for what or who is no longer here
Grief doesn’t move in a straight line. It loops, it spirals, it circles back. Sometimes you think you’re through the worst of it, and then a song, a scent, a season opens the door again. This is not failure. This is the nature of grief—it lives with us, not behind us.
The Many Portals Into Grief
When we think of grief, we usually think of death. But loss has many shapes. In his beautiful teachings, Francis Weller describes five “gates” of grief—five ways sorrow enters our lives:
1. The loss of someone or something we love
2. The parts of ourselves we’ve exiled to survive—dreams we let go of, truths we hid to fit in
3. The grief we carry for the world—its suffering, its destruction, its injustice
4. The ancestral grief passed down in our blood, our bones, our stories
5. The sorrow for what we never received—the love, care, or safety we longed for but never got
These are tender places. And when they aren’t acknowledged, they don’t go away—they settle into the body, into the nervous system, into our sense of self. But when we make space for them, when we turn toward them with compassion, something inside begins to soften. We begin to remember who we are beneath the protective layers.
Grief Is Not Meant to Be Carried Alone
One of the deepest losses in our culture is the loss of shared grieving. In many ancestral traditions, grief was witnessed—cried out loud, danced, sung, honored through ritual. It was communal. And in being held by others, grief could move.
Today, many people grieve in isolation. We wonder if we’re being “too much,” if our sorrow is taking too long, if we should be stronger by now. But grief is not a weakness—it’s a reflection of our capacity to love.
Grief and gratitude are inseparable. The more fully we grieve, the more deeply we feel the beauty of what we’ve lost—and what we still have.
Ways to Tend to Grief Gently
There’s no right way to grieve. But there are ways to move with it rather than fight it. Ways to stay in relationship with what was lost, and with who we are becoming in the wake of that loss.
You might consider:
• Creating ritual: Light a candle. Write a letter. Build an altar. Let your body remember in a way words cannot.
• Listening to your body: Grief lives in the tissues. Movement, stretching, breathwork, walking in nature—these can help what’s stuck begin to move.
• Expressing creatively: Paint, sing, write, cry. Give shape to your sorrow in ways that feel authentic and alive.
• Letting yourself be witnessed: Whether in therapy, a grief circle, or with a trusted friend—being seen in your grief can be profoundly healing.
• Spending time on the land: Nature holds death and renewal as part of the same cycle. Let the trees, the soil, the seasons remind you that this, too, belongs.
Walking with Grief
Grief changes us. Not into someone broken, but into someone deeper. Grief stretches the heart—so that we can hold more love, more tenderness, more truth.
As Weller writes, “The work of the mature human is to carry grief in one hand and gratitude in the other, and to be stretched large by them.”
Grief may never leave you. But it can become a companion on the path—one that reminds you what matters, how deeply you can love, and how much beauty still exists, even in the midst of sorrow.
If you’re longing for a space where your grief can be witnessed and held with care, I’d be honored to walk beside you. I offer grief counseling in Oakland and online throughout California.
This kind of healing takes time. But you don’t have to do it alone.
Reach out today if you feel called to begin.