By Laura Wright

“Blessed are you when the shock subsides,
when vaguely, you see a line appear that divides before and after.

“You didn’t draw it, and you can barely even make it out.
But as surely as minutes add up to hours and days,
here you are,
forced into a story you never would have written.

“Blessed are you in the tender place of wonder and dread,
wondering how to be whole when dreams have disappeared and part of you with them,
where mastery, control, determination, bootstrapping, and grit,
are consigned to the realm of before (where most of the world lives),
in the fever dream that promises infinite choices, unlimited progress, best life now.

“Blessed are we in the after, loudly shouting: is there anybody here?
We hear the echo, the shuffle of feet, the murmur of others
asking the same question, together in the knowledge
that we are far beyond what we know.

“Show us a glimmer of possibility in this new constraint,
that small truths will be given back to us.
We are held.
We are safe.
We are loved.
We are loved.
We are loved.

“And best of all: We are not alone.”

Kate Bowler and Jessica Richie - The Lives We Actually Have 

This was an evening of marked importance. 

From the setting of the space, to the welcoming of the community, to the raw emotion that came pouring through. It was Kali energy unfettered. It is clear that this is a calling. That community, ceremony and space to be with the wild parts of ourselves is so necessary.  

In general society has lost the art of tending to grief and endings aren’t something the west does well…. We drink, we pat someone on the back and quite often its never spoken of again. Yoga for the Dead was the opposite of this. This was an evening of quiet and supportive compassion for ourselves and for others. There was an outpouring of grief. There was also love and laughter and steady and supportive space holding. Amidst the muddle of anxiety and tension and distress the community held each other.

Often grief can feel like taboo, as though its something that needs to be locked up and hidden in case it makes others feel uncomfortable. But grief is to big to be locked up, it is demanding, wild and unknown. Locking the rawness of grief away means that we may also miss out on the parts that are soft, tender and found in the every day. 

What really emanated through the evening was that as much as our grief may feel so personal, it is universal and so much apart of the human condition. That to be in a place of grieving is also to be in the rawness of living. That grief, as much as its a crappy lesson to be forced on anyone, is the lesson the world needs to heed the most. We need to remember and relearn how to rage, to cry and to feel. That we need to remember that to feel is to heal and that by being open magnifies our hearts ability to love and be with joy. 

This was an evening of remembering. Remembering the loved ones gone, friendships ending, shifts in our lives we never expected.  It was also an evening of remembering that we can reclaim these natural cycles of death and rebirth within us. That by tuning into the layers of our grief, with love and curiosity, we expand our capacity to hold it: both for ourselves and others.

It was an evening to remember that we were never meant to do this alone. That we need ceremonies and spaces to be kind, compassionate and loving to all layers of our grief. To reclaim grief as the much-needed medicine of our times. Yoga for the Dead will be held again and it will continue to evolve in order to honour the community with the most supportive, compassionate and loving space possible. 

‘The sorrow, grief and rage you feel is a measure of your humanity and your emotional maturity. As your heart breaks open there will be room for the world to heal’ – Joanna Macy.