I’ve been feeling such immense sadness; I’ve been holding so much grief around conversation. How do I show up in space when all I can think about is the ongoing death toll of the Palestinian people? How do I talk to my grandparents (again) about moving Chris’s ashes from the basement? How do I show up in conversation with topics that are hot to touch? How do I provide direct support for my nervous system when facing death in such a palpable way?
I turn back towards my grief as a lens for being more present. I turn back towards my grief as it guides my practice every single day. Being in direct conversation with death allows me the space to find such immense gratitude for the smallest things. I know that I am not owed anything even when I think I am. I am not owed a response or a reckoning or forgiveness. I am not owed a conclusive result, and yet here I am continuing in my practice.
I visited my friend Eve Brown’s show, “Lost and Held” this past week. I sat with her woven pieces, stitched with pine needles and grief. All the things lost amongst the collective’s memories and bodies and climate. Eve’s words, along with the stories of many, reminded me that so many of us are seeking space to be held in. We’re seeking space that cherishes transition and hard to swallow truths. I witnessed myself drop my shoulders knowing that I could sink into my own grief being surrounded by the stories of so many others who have experienced loss in such palpable ways.
We talked for a while in the classroom next door, touching clay and molding things into life as stories were swapped around sustenance and space — how we can continue to cultivate containers for holding such open-ended questions. The space of grief is unknown and completely nonlinear. Sitting with grief, touching it, reminds us of our humanity.
So much of my practice has oriented towards the act of noticing — noticing all of the moments I cannot change, all of the external circumstances that my hands cannot touch, noticing the grief of the collective as we watch the dismantling of so much. How the dismantling is messy, is often violent, is brutal. It’s far more complex than I understand as the decades, even centuries, of oppression have fostered grief beyond what I have ever known. I am working to hold myself accountable in sharing discourse with those around me instead of attuning my gaze online, with vigilance and repetition, like the cinema of 2020 that’s impacted my body’s ability to hold empathy.
In my practice of noticing, my attunement towards grief has opened up this massive space to hold what is ugly. Everything that I was unable to look at for being too shameful is now completely and unequivocally beautiful.
When I first began shifting my gaze inward, I noticed these enormous flare ups in my nervous system. It felt triggering, almost unsafe in many ways. I thought beauty, and more specifically my beauty, lived separate of what is ugly. I thought that love occupied one container and death occupied another. I thought that my grief tarnished my ability to love and be loved. I thought that my presentation of beauty was more important than the gnarly underbelly of what is actually the most beautiful.
All of the ways I’ve hidden away the parts of me that are less palatable have kept me from showing up in relationship with greater honesty. I’ve been so burned on trying to go into the depths with people because they’re not ready to meet me there. It means I have to keep going there and showing those around me what that deep diving offers us. I have to keep showing up with myself and with these offerings even if that means people are triggered by its appearance. I have to keep talking about genocide, of transphobia, and of land back even if people decide they aren’t ready or don’t want to meet me there. I must continue. I have to continue. It is part of what makes me my most beautiful.
I want love that is so big, and so ugly, that it wrecks me in every way. I want relationship that holds me in the deepest of grief and in the mountain tops of joy. I want it all. It means that my practice is asking me to be bigger, to talk with more agency, to hold more space for all that I don’t understand. It means that I choose the side of reciprocity and I won’t stop until ALL LIVES ARE LIBERATED. FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA
“The tragedies of the last few days have made it clearer than ever: if we want a just future for Palestinians, Israelis, and people everywhere, we need a strong movement of American Jews against apartheid, and for a just, thriving, future for all.” Give back with IfNotNow Movement
Reading everything Fariha has to offer us right now. Their book “Survival Takes a Wild Imagination” is out and I can’t wait to receive it in the mail
My wonderful friend Symone made this to share widely:
Lukaza made these downloadable and printable posters for marching, protesting, hanging, and sharing through your webs
I’m headed to grief ritual tonight here in Atl, please join me if this is within your capacity
If you need direct support from me, I am doing sliding-scale tarot readings on Fridays online. I am also showing up in person here in Atlanta on 11/5 at Estoria Market with these offerings, as well as new prints, candles for protection, and readings. I am feeling called to be alongside y’all in this way so please reach out if you have any questions.
With care,