Grief as an Initiation- Part 2 of 2
Surrendering to the Innate Intelligence of Mourning
Part 1 of this article is here.
Sensing His Presence
The ravages of feeling my grief opened the way for me to find enough space in myself to be able to feel grateful for being here while missing Tyler immensely. I’d have given anything to have him back in physical form but had accepted that was never going to happen. Knowing that truth in my body, not just in my mind, seemed to allow me to dwell more deeply in the wonder of life in this moment. Its as if life now tasted sweeter because I was acutely aware of its very temporary and fragile nature.
At some point in that period I began to sense Tyler’s presence. I couldn’t see, hear or feel him with my skin but I kept getting the sense that he was there with me. I’d lean into that sensation of him for a few seconds then part of my mind would bust in with,
“don’t be ridiculous, he’s dead, this is just wishful thinking”.
I’d end up in tears again.
But it kept happening, the sense that he was there with me and that he was loving me, trying to reassure me in some way. I learned to quiet the judgmental voice. I realized it felt like a dead voice, not the voice of the dead, but a voice that was no longer alive to the moment, just flatly repeating some old thing it had heard long ago. The sense that Tyler was with me felt very real, present and ironically alive.
When I could let myself lean into the feeling of him I felt warm, connected, peaceful and more and more sure that he was okay. Dead, yes, but okay, still aware in some way, and still very much loving me.
That added a new layer to the paradox I was already holding of being grateful to be alive while very much missing him. Now I was experiencing tumultuous waves of grief for his physical loss interspersed with blissful moments of connection with his essence. It was confusing to say the least.
These experiences lead me to work with two mediums. Both confirmed, beyond any doubt I had, that Tyler was very much still present and was attempting to communicate with me.
A New Reality: Post-Traumatic Growth
These three islands that appeared in the ocean of grief - community, expanded ability to feel and the connection across the veil - formed into a new land upon which I began to make my home. The ocean of grief was, and continues to be, ever present but these three types of experiences gave me a solid footing on which to rest from the wailing, start to put down some roots and even begin to flourish.
I find myself now to be much more open to whatever life may have in store for me, because I trust I will make it through whatever emotions arise in myself and others. I feel stronger in this regard and also softer, more compassionate for the suffering of the world. I now have the ability to experience an expanded range of emotions, I feel all of it more, including awe, joy and love. Tyler’s death taught be how to love more deeply. I would never have predicted that!
These specific experiences are unique to me but shared by many others in various ways. Psychologists have been tracking how people respond to grief and finding that some people seem to come out of the ocean of grief as new versions of themselves. There are six core areas researchers identify change for people when they experience what is now called Post-Traumatic Growth, i.e. personal development after a traumatic experience, including bereavement. The six areas are:
A sense of personal strength
A greater appreciation for life
Closer relationships with others
Openness to new possibilities
Renewed or revised spirituality
A desire to be in service to others
Check! All of these are true for me. They journey of how I arrived in this new land is simply one version of the story. Everyone who has traveled the path of grief has their own unique tale to tell. I’m curious about your journey?
What were some of the turning points for you, or islands where you found respite from the pounding ocean of grief? (please post in the comments, I’d love to hear)
Grief as an Initiation and Gateway to the Otherworld
This is why I see grief as an initiation. It forces us to go places we have never been, into deeper parts of ourselves we have not yet accessed. This is the classic descent into soul, the dark night of the soul, the journey to the Underworld, where we are stripped of our former identity, of everything that defined who we were. Think Inanna in the Underworld.
It’s the phase of a rites of passage ceremony (aka Vision Quest, Prayer Fast, Wilderness Vigil) where we are severed from the village, and all that is familiar, and taken to some unknown place where different rules apply and we fear for our lives.
What is important to know is that it is temporary. I don’t believe we ever “get over” grief, why would we want to? It is full of medicine. But it eases with time, the darkest part won’t last forever - which is really hard to see as possible when you’re deep in it. That dark, cold, Underworld place of grief is the first part of the initiatory journey, there’s much more to come.
At some point we must choose - life or death. Some will choose death as a response to grief. Most seem to choose life.
That vital force inside us ultimately wants to keep going, no matter how rocky the terrain has become. We start searching for the path out of the Underworld, fumbling our way towards the light in the hope that we can find our way to something we don’t yet know how to define. This is the heart of the initiatory process. We have been so devastated, so totally destroyed, that very little of the old self is of use anymore, we must find the light that still burns inside and follow it out of the darkness.
That is the medicine.
As we follow our own light, to save ourselves, we tap into the core of who we are and who we came here to be. The person emerging from the soul descent is a fuller version of themselves - more grounded, more expanded, more open, more connected, more compassionate and more willing to give of themselves. What we each give is unique to each individual, our own innate genius now gets to shine brighter in the world.
I have participated in various rites of passage ceremonies. Grief has been, by far, the most potent initiation I have received.
While I still wish Tyler was here, alive and able to live out the rest of his life, I often thank him for the gifts I received from experiencing his loss. That paradox again.
Oral storytelling is an ancient art form that allows me to express these ideas in a more fluid, non-linear way. The experiences I describe here informed my telling of many old stories and specifically of Merlin’s story. You can listen to my telling of his story by clicking below.
Kat Houghton PhD is a recovering psychologist and wilderness rites of passage guide based in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina. A native of the British Isles she carries the tradition of oral storytelling across the ocean. She teaches and holds space online and in-person.