[Editor’s Note: This and subsequent excerpt parts are from the anthology entitled Wounded Feminine: Grieving with Goddess, published by Girl God Books (2024).]
Grief as a Pathway to the ‘Sacred Real’
Amber Samaya Gould
Many of my mornings begin with a poignant, breathy, swirling feeling – grief. It is not a grief conjured up solely from my own personal losses. Although those have a part to play. It is a different grief. It is a lingering, low-lying, non-distinct grief. It is a grief that hovers, that is multidimensional, mixed with concern, with worry, with desire, with longing, sometimes anger. A grief for something lost, or dying, or calling out for my attention. It is like a baby constantly crying somewhere in the distance. Yes, like that, like that a thousand times over.
This is Collective grief.
A grief for things being harmed, that I alone have not the strength or power to protect. A grief that reaches out its hands to a burning rainforest, to a trafficked teenage girl, to salmon contending with dammed rivers and tributaries too dry to get home, to a stand of trees cut down for another unaffordable housing development, to a black bear hit by a truck as it tries to cross a highway to reach water, to a child covered in menacing sores, to a sensitive soul seeking to be comforted on the narrowing edge of an overdose, to a working poor renter who can only ever find temporary shelter, to the last caribou standing in a functionally extinct herd, to Indigenous communities surrounded on every side by industry, to a factory worker who forgets her own name after a 14-hour shift, to a struggling small farmer who can’t afford to pay his debts, to a cow in a feed lot standing knee-deep in her own feces living a completely denaturalized life and yearning for an open field, to a body who hasn’t been touched or hugged in months with nerves of need burning, to a ravaged cut block in the last remaining old growth whispering the final notes of a song that will not be sung again for 500 years.
I feel you, but I cannot touch you.
I feel you, but I cannot seem to reach you.
I feel you, because I am you.
I sense that this may be the challenge of our time: To accept the inherent cost of living with a truly open heart. To live a connected, open-eyed, open-hearted, wide-awake life of awareness and responsiveness to what is happening on our beloved planet. This cost is an intensity of grief – the pathway to the Sacred Real.
This is the grief that comes inherent with being born to an earth family whose power holders and decision makers for many hundreds of years have been in contract and capture by the logic of Industrial Society; extracting, exploiting, and harming in the name of profit and supremacy. Against Her. Against Mother. Against Life. Destroying our one and only home.
Industrial Society neglects and ignores its elders and squanders the inheritance of its children. It lives in perpetual denial, and keeps its citizens in distraction, fragmentation, dependency and dysregulation. It provides an algorithmically-mediated push toward the hyperreal – that is, counterfeit substance, disconnected from Life systems – rather than the Sacred Real – that which is Life sustaining, Life giving, and Life respecting.
For all this, I have come to recognize that the world of Industrial Society is not full of cold, disinterested, selfish people, although it may seem this way at times. I think the world is full of people who only know their heart to be so big. Who subconsciously fear the cost of it breaking were they to let the full reality of interbeing enter in like a rushing wind. And that is why we’re not seeing a full-scale REVOLUTION and REVOLT against ‘business as usual’. You have to feel it to believe it.
So, the invitation, the prayer on my lips is for the people inside of Industrial Society to experience the gift of an expanded heart and the ability to contain Collective Grief. To inhabit a wider territory of feeling.
The people are in need of a great softening medicine. So many are exhausted, in the throes of cognitive dissonance, overcooked, looping, fighting for sanity, for security, hardening and narrowing to withstand the bleak, soul- killing reality of their many empty options. Perhaps unable to risk the disorientation and undoing that will come with real and raw feeling.
Grief. You truly are a heavyweight champion. The Great Contender. The water and the stone. An overgrown, wobbly, cobblestone path to the Sacred Real.
Today I am making a stand for the grievers. I am making a stand for collective grief. That we must feel it. That we must not hide from it or run from it or lose our faith in its ability to connect us most deeply to Life and to each other. We must not allow cynicism to keep us from making space for it (and perhaps cynicism develops when grief is retained in the mind, when it goes unnamed and is not allowed to reach in and expand our hearts).
This collective grief, if we let it do its work, will have us turn fiercely and lovingly toward the world as collaborators and caretakers rather than consumers. It will develop in us the capacity of interbeing. To be protectors of Life, to build the next economy, to Center the Sacred, to once again create, honour and savour beautiful systems of Life together. To be giants of feeling.
The revolution will come through the catalyzation of grief work. It will arrive quietly and powerfully on a trail of transformative tears. It will take us directly into the heart of what truly matters. Back into the circle way of the Sacred Real.