Flowers fade, die, and produce seed to become the next generation of flowers. Every year, in Autumn leaves die, drop, and offer beauty in their passing. These fallen leaves sustain life in the forest or in our compost bins, building layers of soil.
Being outdoors with our loss and grief can restore a connection that supports us, nurtures us, and sustains us.
Join Meg Jordan, of Restore Earth Connections, for one to one loss and grief support through guided time in nature.
Meg brings many years of being a witness to others sharing their loss and grief. She has much experience creating rituals and ceremonies to honour and incorporate loss into our lives. And she draws on wise writers and teachers to deepen her understanding of the power of grief interwoven with life.
The way it works:
"Imagine what this grieving space does for an individual facing loss. It grants a profound permission to enter a place of sorrow, to work with it, to explore its contours and textures, to become familiar with the landscape of loss."
Francis Weller, The Wild Edge of Sorrow, p. 16
What has drawn me to this work of supporting people in the journey of life that leads through the valley of the shadow of death? Well, we ALL journey there, no exceptions.
Yet our society continues to pretend that death is optional. As if by not speaking about loss and death that it doesn't exist and we can avoid it. I'm drawn to support you as you travel your own loss and grief journey, because I know from personal experience the difference it makes to be heard and allowed space to express the pain of loss.
We each experience loss, and not all losses are about a physical death. Loss, "small" or "large", is part of life and needs to be acknowledged and grieved. We each need support and care as we hounour our losses.
One of the most significant losses in my life occurred when I was a young wife and Mom of two with another on the way. What I experienced wasn't a physical death; but it felt like a death. It was the death of security and trust. My world turned upside down and inside out. For many years I buried it, trying to dismiss it as small and of no consequence. Then I risked sharing with someone who listened with the ears of their heart; who honoured my pain. This was a major healing moment that enabled me to begin sorting and digesting the original loss and the protection I had built around my heart.
The experience of years of squelching my invisible grief, and the transformative experience of truly being heard, was a pivotal experience leading me to this work. What caused me great pain and suffering also opened me to be able to walk beside others in their loss, grief and pain -- as some did for me.
I am honoured to have been part of the lives of many people whom I met when I worked in hospital offering spiritual care. Some I met when they learned of the devastating sudden death of a loved one. Some faced a life-limiting diagnosis for themselves or for their child. Others grieved the losses due to limitations and unexpected change. Some grappled with their own mortality. Others grieved as they faced the knowledge of an expected loss. And some shared the pain of losses that were unrecognized and not able to be openly grieved.
In recent years when my Mom died, I felt most eased being in nature. Leaning against a large tree beside a parking lot; finding my way to a sheltered spot in the forest to simply be -- these were balm to my spirit. I feel accompanied by the seasons and rhythms of the natural world as I have learned to live in this world with my Mom's absent presence.
Loss is part of life; we don't "get over it" -- we are meant to honour our losses and weave their colours into the fabric of our lives. I consider it a sacred trust to make space for you to share your loss and to support you to find your own meaning and healing.