Grief Is Not a Problem: Honoring the Sacred Intelligence of Loss

A love letter to what aches, lingers, and still belongs.

“Grief is not something to get over. It’s something to get close to.”

In the quiet space of a therapy room, in the raw aftermath of change, in the body that suddenly trembles without reason—grief arrives.

Not as a mistake.

Not as a mental health crisis.

But as a holy visitor.

A truth-teller.

A threshold.

And yet in our culture, grief is so often treated like a problem to be solved.

A pathology.

A phase.

A weight to be lightened.

We are taught to manage it, suppress it, categorize it.

But grief doesn’t follow stages.

It doesn’t read your calendar.

It doesn’t resolve on demand.

Grief is not a mental construct.

Grief is relational. Spiritual. Somatic.

It lives in the body like a tide that rises when we touch what matters.

The Body as Grief’s First Language

Before we can name what we’ve lost, the body often already knows:

• The chest tightens around what’s gone.

• The stomach clenches with unmet endings.

• The throat closes around unsaid goodbyes.

• The heart pulses with memory, longing, and love that has nowhere to land.

This is not dysfunction.

This is devotion.

In somatic therapy, we don’t rush to move through grief. We make space for it to speak—in sensation, in image, in pause, in ritual. We track where it lives, and we listen.

Because grief is not only about death.

It’s about all the ways life asks us to let go:

• Of identities that no longer fit

• Of relationships that can’t hold our truth

• Of bodies that are changing, aging, aching

• Of futures that won’t come to pass

Grief is the body's way of staying in relationship—even after the form has changed.

Grief as a Form of Intelligence

What if grief wasn’t something to fix, but something to trust?

Grief tells us:

• What we love

• What we’ve carried

• What we’re still tethered to

• What wants to be honored

When we allow grief to be present—not as a crisis but as a companion—we find that it has rhythm.

It ebbs and flows.

It contracts and expands.

It lives in spirals, not timelines.

And in this way, grief becomes a kind of initiation.It opens the heart.

It breaks the illusion of control.

It reminds us that we are porous, relational, and part of something larger than ourselves.

Making Space for What Has Been Lost

In a culture that doesn’t give grief room, therapy becomes a sacred space to remember:

• You don’t have to rush your grief.

• You don’t have to justify it.

• You don’t have to make it make sense.

You are allowed to cry without knowing why.

To ache without needing resolution.

To return to what was, not to dwell—but to bear witness.

Grief, when welcomed, becomes part of your becoming.

It deepens your compassion.

It sharpens your intuition.

It roots you in what really matters.

An Invitation to Honor Your Grief

If you are carrying grief—quietly, fiercely, recently, or from long ago—you are not alone.

You are not broken.

You are not behind.

You are being initiated into a deeper intimacy with life.

Your grief is not a problem. It is a prayer.

Let it rise. Let it speak. Let it shape you.

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If you are navigating loss, transition, or grief in its many forms, I offer spaces that honor the body, the sacred, and the unseen. Reach out when you're ready to be held in the fullness of what you're carrying. You don’t have to do this alone.