Grief as Form
Grief as Form
“Grief makes a home within us if we allow it to.” —Hanif Abdurraqib
There are new folks here, thanks to the fact that
graciously shared an essay that I wrote last week. In light of this, I am making the July monthly essay available for everyone to read. I sincerely thank you for being here and supporting my work!There are numerous iterations of grief unfolding at every moment. We cannot look away. Have you tried? What happened when you returned?
Recently, I’ve noticed a series of moments where grief has stretched out a hand—an invitation—into the chaos of change and loss. This summoning might also lead to a deeper curiosity: what other names do we give to our grief, our heartbreak, and our mourning?
In the past week we’ve witnessed several portals open up; opportunities that have shown us how to consider the form and function of grief and grieving in different ways:
On July 19, 2023, For The Wild shared a conversation between Báyò Akómoláfé, philosopher, writer, activist, and professor; Naomi Klein, author, social activist, and filmmaker; and Yuria Celidwen, teacher, scholar, and researcher, on climate grief and holding space for hope. This conversation is a part of “The Edges in the Middle,” a series presented in collaboration with UC Berkeley’s Othering and Belonging Institute.
On July 23, 2023, NPR published an interview with poet, essayist, and cultural critic Hanif Abdurraqib, on grief as a spiritual practice. In conversation, he speaks candidly about how the power of music can open a threshold for remembering those who have passed. To this Abdurraqib says, “I think grief treats us well when these parts of people that we've gotten to enjoy greet us warmly. That's the real gift, to say I am not just one person, I am multiple versions of a person and some of those versions of myself have been loved immensely by people who were so incredible.”
On July 25, 2023, The Guardian published an article summarizing a new study of the potential collapse of the Gulf Stream by 2025, which would lead to severe climate outcomes. While some scientists disagree with the analysis, most conclude that more research is warranted, and if the data does reveal a falling apart of the ocean current, it will require urgent care with steadfast action.
On July 26, 2023, Shuhada' Sadaqat, known professionally as Sinéad O’Connor passed away in London at the age of fifty-six. The Irish singer, songwriter, and musician comes from a long tradition of protest singers including Woody Guthrie, Nina Simone, Aretha Franklin, Gill Scott Heron, and Joan Baez, to name a few.
On July 27 and July 29, 2023, The New Yorker published “The Unapologetic Brilliance of Sinéad O’Connor,” an essay by Amanda Petrusich, and “Sinéad O’Connor Was Always Herself”, an essay by Abdurraqib, respectively. In their work, both writers honor the richness and depth of her music.
Grief will always ask us to return.
Lately, as I listen to and read more about how grief shows up in the body, what surfaces is a connection to cycles, time, and story, which give shape or foundation to the experience. To grieve is to release the ego, to become more vulnerable, and more permeable to sensation. Grief nudges the emergence of our becoming, encouraging us to come undone in the presence of others. Similar to Abdurraqib, I believe sonic experiences help to orient my awareness to the memory of someone who has passed, reawakening me to the expression of spirit that moved through them. This nuanced and precious understanding of sentience is at the core of what I have gleaned over the last month.
In my work as a clinician, grief is always a part of the practice. Thankfully, I have the privilege to be a steward of East Asian Medicine, which honors the internal ecology and does not separate the mind and body. In this practice, Grief, like other emotions, is deeply woven into the fabric of philosophy and theory and is rooted in indigenous cosmology. One text that I recommend to students and allies of this medicine is The Yin and Yang of Climate Crisis: Healing Personal, Cultural, and Ecological Imbalance with Chinese Medicine, by Brendan Kelly. In preparation for this essay, I reviewed the chapter “Quality Controls Quantity: Metal Controls Wood,” which explains how grief manifests within humans and the planet. I’d like to draw out a few resonances associated with grief in a context that is both familiar and sensual.
A note on language: I prefer not to change the language of East Asian Medicine as it is currently taught, and how I learned to talk about it. The medical poetics are translated versions, and the use of word choice and phrasing differs between authors—some have a wider understanding of classic texts and their cultural significance. If the concepts seem abstract, it is helpful to remember that they come from nature; they are nature.
Grief is rooted in the Lungs and Large Intestines.
The associated element or phase is Metal (think of knives, air, and minerals).
Metal energy descends, and is Yin in nature.
The skin and the pores are governed by Metal (think sensitivity to temperature change).
The Metal phase is associated with precision and connection to the sacred.
The sound of the Metal is weeping.
Reclaiming the sacredness of grief is, in part, what Kelly is calling for. He writes, “Continuing to live in a way that destabilizes the climate would seem senseless if we recognized that rather than being connected to the planet, we are the planet itself.”
There are myriad forms of grief that we encounter every day, large and small, interpersonal and systemic. One of the beautiful aspects of East Asian Medicine is that it demonstrates a very different framework than what we currently have. It can be utilized as a tool to recognize deep-seated personal and cultural patterns that perpetuate climate change, as Kelly notes, “An embodied sense of the preciousness of all life and all things in nature is a potent antidote to the quest for never-ending economic expansion.” Rooted in an indigenous worldview, it also opens up a channel in the field of medicine to have better conversations. Climate change is a whole-person, whole-planet experience, where, as Abdurraqib highlights, “Multiple apocalypses are intersecting.”
Where can we safely grieve together? How can we reckon with devastation at scale? What shape does grief make within the body—of people, more than human relatives, and the planet? How might these forms be a catalyst for changing course, where grief and grieving can be met with more tenderness, as Akómoláfé suggests, “Grieving is not in the way. Grieving together, falling apart together might very well be the most ecstatic, the most animated politics in response to these moments.”
This, I believe, is how we practice hope.
Listening | Reading | Creating
🎧 I’ve recently been listening to “Nightqueen” by Hurray For The Riff Raff, which features poet, essayist, and novelist, Ocean Vuong. It’s a beautiful and moving song.
📖 Gearing up for the start of a series next week on embodiment and nature writing that will wrap up at the end of the year, I am in the flow of being with one text at a time. The practice has been fun, and inevitably leads me into adjacent work, which I like to pepper throughout each weekly letter and monthly essay.
Forthcoming in August: Bird By Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, by Anne Lamott; “Environment: New words on the wild”, by Robert MacFarlane; “What Nourishes Your Writing Ecosystem”, by Jamie Figueroa.
🍁 Starting in September I’ll be offering seasonal embodiment workshops in alignment with each Equinox and Solstice. I am excited to share that the first Inner Ecology workshop will take place on September 16th! This virtual gathering is offered on a sliding scale and includes breathwork practice, acupressure protocols, and writing prompts. Visit the workshop page to register, and learn more.