The Dance of Grief

Yin. Yang. 

Darkness. Light.

Winter. Summer.

Loss. Love

Severance. Birth.

I woke up Wednesday morning, the day after my birthday, feeling amazing. Light, happy and unburdened. The sun shone brightly, the air felt clearer. As I reflected on this, I felt the clear difference in how I felt the day before. Was it just the weather that brought a clearing from the previous day’s gloominess and heaviness? Was it my mood after enduring and surviving another birthday (grief day) or could it be that I processed something huge and allowed myself permission to feel?

As the day evolved, the thoughts came in like waves. In like an epiphany and out like acceptance, over and over. No beach here to embrace, rather only the beautiful mountains of western NC that embrace me. I came to understand what I may need to offer myself next year on my birthday. Possibly a day of mourning followed by a day of celebration. And permission. Permission to feel it all, without any expectation of how it should be. Permission we don’t realize that we need to give ourselves. 

Permission to allow ourselves the weight of all we carry, day after day.

Grief does not move in straight lines, its complex, layered and multifaceted. It does not arrive, complete its work and politely leave. It's on going and many times cumulative.

Grief dances.

Some days it sways softly in the background barely noticeable, like music playing in another room. Other days it pulls us onto the floor without warning, spinning us into memories, sensations and emotions we did not plan to visit.

This is the dance called grief.

Grief has rhythm, but no predictable choreography. It can be slow and heavy, asking us to move gently, cautiously. It can be sharp and sudden, stopping us mid-step. It can feel like stillness, our bodies frozen, unsure how to move at all.

So often, we are taught to treat grief as something to “get through,” to master, to resolve. As if there is a final song, a last step, a moment where we bow and declare ourselves healed.

But grief does not work that way.

Grief is relational. It is an ongoing conversation between what was, what is and what will never be the same again. It lives not only in our minds, but in our bodies, in our breath, our muscles and our nervous system. It shows up as fatigue, restlessness, tears that come without explanation, digestive issues and more. Or a quiet numbness that feels safer than feeling everything all at once.

In this dance, there is no failure in stepping back. There is no weakness in pausing. There is no shame in returning to the same movements again and again. This too is a practice, much like yoga, we need to make time for it, sit with it and ask it what it is trying to teach us.

Sometimes grief asks us to lead. Sometimes it asks us to follow. Sometimes it asks us simply to stand still and listen. If we can slow down enough to be present and listen, it has so much it wants to tell us.

When we allow grief to move us, rather than resist it, we begin to notice something surprising. Beneath the ache, there is devotion. Beneath the sorrow, there is love. Grief is not the opposite of love; it is love’s echo when something meaningful has changed or been lost.

Grief can actually be a beautiful gift, but you must desire to learn how to dance with it.

This is why grief deserves tenderness, not timelines. Presence, not pressure. Permission, not performance.

The dance called grief is not about doing it “right.” It is about staying in relationship with ourselves as we move through loss, change and becoming. It is about honoring the truth that healing does not erase grief, it teaches us how to move with it.

And over time, the music changes. The dance softens.The floor feels more familiar.We learn where to place our feet. Grief remains, but it no longer leads every step.

If you find yourself in this dance, know this: you are not behind, broken, or doing it wrong. You are listening. You are responding. You are learning how to move again one breath, one step, one moment at a time.

And that, too, is healing.

An Invitation to Learn to Dance With Grief

1. Somatic Awareness & Body Work

• Grounding exercises: Place your feet firmly on the floor, feel the weight of your body, notice your breath. Even 1–2 minutes can bring you back to presence.

• Gentle movement: Stretch, sway, or dance to music, let your body express what words can’t.

• Body scan journaling: Close your eyes and move your attention slowly through your body. Note sensations of tension, heaviness, or release.

2. Creative Expression

• Free writing: Write your grief without editing. Let it flow as letters, poetry, or raw journaling.

• Art therapy: Paint, draw or collage your emotions. Abstract forms often reveal what words can’t capture.

• Music or sound: Sing, hum or use a tuning fork, drum or bells to physically “move” grief through vibration.

3. Rituals & Mindful Practices

• Lighting a candle: Create a small ritual to acknowledge your grief, even for a few minutes.

• Nature walks: Let nature witness your feelings. Collect objects, observe textures or simply breathe with the trees.

• Grief altar or box: Place symbolic items representing what you’ve lost. This creates a tangible place to honor feelings safely.

4. Emotional Reflection

• Naming feelings: Labeling emotions “sad,” “angry,” “lost” can help organize and release them.

• Letter writing: Write to what you’ve lost or even to your future self as a way of holding dialogue.

• Check-in journaling: At the end of the day, note how grief moved through you. Even small observations matter.

5. Connection & Support

• Talk with someone safe: A trusted friend, coach, therapist, or support group. Sometimes simply being witnessed helps grief move.

• Shared creative spaces: Join workshops, writing groups or sound healing sessions where emotions can be expressed collectively.

• Online communities: Look for trauma-informed or grief-centered groups that validate lived experience without pressure to “fix” it.

6. Ritualized Release

• Letting go through motion: Tear, crumple, or burn symbolic paper representing grief (safely).

• Water release: Splash, pour, or float symbolic items on water to represent releasing emotion.

• Breathwork: Slow inhales and long exhales, imagining grief moving out of the body with each exhale.

“Sometimes it is not a mountain to climb, rather a dance floor to sway.” - Hope

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