I feel as if I’m seeing spirals everywhere, lately. In the Pacific Northwest of the US, the ferns have been emerging, the snails’ shells can be spotted after a spring rain, the eagles are teaching their young how to circle the sky. We, ourselves, are also cycling in spirals as we work through grief on both the collective and personal levels.

We might acknowledge the feeling and let the grief flow through, effectively shedding it. We then might re-emerge into a fresh perspective—and, maybe, a little relief—before the grief creeps upon us, again. Following the spiral, we will keep shifting through the needed shedding and re-emergence, if we allow it. Allowing it would mean opening ourselves to new possibilities, which would, in turn, help lead us to lasting change. And lasting change means transformation.

For me, the grief has been coming in small spurts and asking me to move in a way that reminds me of the double helix of a DNA molecule, perhaps as a mirroring of the collective grief. It’s very different from the bouts of deep grief I experienced through respiratory illnesses a couple of years ago. That grieving called on me to release even what I’d been carrying for my ancestors. This time, the reason for the grief seems much simpler, and, also, much more transformative.

It feels as if I’m grieving my lack of commitment to myself and my own well-being. Although this goes beyond “self-care,” it doesn’t feel very deep to me (even though I acknowledge that working through personal grief can effect the release of collective grief).

It’s not as deep because it’s always been on the surface as something I’ve known about but wasn’t ready to acknowledge or let go.

At its core this grief is about my own willingness to walk through fire for me—and, by extension, for the collective. And this means saying what needs to be said; creating beauty in the world, no matter how it’s received by those I know or don’t know; standing up for what is true; and supporting all who are on a path towards acting from their hearts.

In our interim “normal,” our expectations can’t predict what the news will be tomorrow or the next day, so we've been forced to let go of the patterns of life that we were used to, or that we were clinging to. Many of us are realizing that we need much less (time at the office, material goods, stress) than we thought we needed to survive, to be productive, to create loving and lasting relationships, and to live in harmony with each other and the planet.

Allowing ourselves to let go, face and flow through our personal grief, as small as “I” am, is what allows us to experience transformation.

I am releasing an old way of being, an old me, in order to make room for the new. Lasting change asks us to shift our perspective permanently.

This kind of work ties into the rune Thurisaz, Thor’s rune, which can be a harbinger of tumult, and also transformation. The rune, itself, looks like a thorn, which can pierce and cause a wound, or can prick and draw out a poison.

It can feel big to face and release long-held patterns or old choices that have brought us to where we are now. If we truly feel we cannot work with the grief at this time, we can always say that out loud—I know I’m carrying this grief, and I will work to shed it, but I ask for more time until I am ready (or that it come only a very little at a time).

If we feel we’re ready to begin letting it go, we can manage the grief in each moment, so it doesn’t feel so big.

In the moment we sense the grief, which can often rear its head first as anger or rage, we can acknowledge it for what it is in that moment; allow ourselves to feel and release, through tears or voice or through noticing sensations in the body, what it is in that moment; and allow the possibility of another choice to begin to take shape in our consciousness.

We can plant a new seed and choose to tend it by noticing it when the grief rises up, or by reflecting on it after the grief subsides, so that it can grow tall enough to where the release of the old ways is more like the sloughing off of a layer that’s no longer needed.

This spiral path of transformation can take patience, sensitivity and awareness over a longer term. I have to admit, the seed planted for the transformation that I’m being called to do during this time has been growing for the last few years. The key has been to allow myself to listen to the grief and to the messages that it brings about letting go.

In that way, I allow it to open me to the possibility of becoming something new, just as the release of grief on the individual and collective levels can open us all to a lasting paradigm shift.

This letting go can feel big and also painful, like the pierce of a thorn. But it can also be, eventually, a relief to discover that there’s actually another choice, another way to be in the world.

This month, please honor yourself and the journey that you’re currently on, whether the steps seem big or small. Many blessings.

Spiraling Grief into Transformation

Empowering Empathy

Waking up to Work with Stillness