The Goodness of Grief

I notice I’ve been interviewing a lot of women about healing recently - searching in our conversations for explanations about why I’m feeling a certain way, why people are acting in ways that are so antisocial, why I say “Fuck!” and “Asshole!” so much more than I used to.I think I’m grieving. Grief coach and death midwife Naila Francis would probably agree. In this episode of CK Unmuted, we talk about what grief is, where it comes from, and how to use it to grow and enrich our lives rather than stunt and impoverish them. We learn that authentic healing is not rushed, not dispatched with a check list. It’s not about reaching a feel-better destination and returning to “normal.” It’s about learning to carry our grief with compassion and care.Thank you, Naila, for sharing your wisdom!~ CKResources:1. Salt Trails - https://salttrailsphilly.com2. Philly Goat Project - https://phillygoatproject.org3. Uplift Center for Grieving Children - https://upliftphilly.org4. The Wind Phone - https://www.mywindphone.com/5. Naila Francis - Website and social media - https://. thishallowedwilderness.comNaila’s Poems:Ordinary TimeHard to know what to do with this grief,the branching out, spilling overwhen there is sun at my window,the sway of summer’s raucous green,a ripple that moves like a runefor momentum, even joy, the call,obstinate and clarion, to lovewhat threads each day.And, still there is room to besurprised, to stumble into a memorythat begs for one more scrap.Sometimes, it is a conversationI will never enter, two people on the streetsharing a dream of us, a lookon the television that sees throughto where your sorrow couldn’t go.Then there is now, nameless, fathomless,rising up to fill my throat.Grief, I say, come in. Sit down.I have tea. There is honey. Thiswill take as long as it takes.~ Naila FrancisHow To Carry TendernessDon’t rush, even if slowis a trembling mode, nomatter what stirs under skin.Let the belly stay soft, heart softerto breathe where words can’t reach.Between the dew-lit dream of grass, the suna hungry slice of sky, find your place— feet on earth, crown gold-spun,the memory of love slipping in.If water comes, greet it.If beauty stuns — shock of fuchsia roses,fan of fulsome green — bow down to the miracleof what this world still gives.Here is a home for sorrow and the smilethat still blooms in your cheeks.You are not alone, living body heldby living body, by all who’ve touchedthis ache, found honey in the opening— chest, throat, hands — wherever they let go.a thousand more moments will beckon.Let this one holy pause,silent listening,claim and name youa child of compassion.No more hard edges and flattened shapes.Cup your own bright face.Welcome, darling.Now walk into this day.~ Naila Francis