Your understanding of The Grief as a “vast, collective ocean made up of all the sorrow ever felt, by all beings, human and non” tracks for me. Though deep and vast, it also connects us. Walking in the world the morning after my father’s death, I felt such tenderness for everyone. And for the world.
Your meditation is such a generous offering. Thank you. 💚
Absolutely, we're all bound it (and much else, of course). I know that tenderness, there's something about being up close with death that can make everyone appear as vulnerable as a newborn (which, ultimately, we are).
Thanks so much for taking the time to listen, Julie! 💜
Having experienced the death meditation you shared previously a few times, and now this most beautiful new immersion, I found myself wondering: are there two oceans of grief, or only one?
The first, though vast and fathoms deep, stormy, powerful, and crushing - feels somehow crystal clear and cool. A grief that follows the natural turning of the seasons, the cycles of life and death, the ancient rhythm of the ages of Earth.
But the second is darker. Fetid, black currents that pull and swallow. A grief that wracks and ravages, born not of nature but of its breaking… genocide, war, ecocide, biocide, specicide. Where the natural cycle of life is broken and the turning of the seasons and the ages of the Earth cannot restore what has been destroyed…
So beautiful, Chloe. Thank you. I find growing comfort in reading and listening to your words. And apologies, my reflections turned a little dark at the end.
Never appologise for getting dark, ’tis my playground 🙃 With the ocean, I imagine it’s not dissimilar to the worlds; different areas with different names, different looks and different feels, but ultimately just one connected thing. For me, whether I’m grieving rampant and unchecked ecocide or the natural death of an elderly friend, a fundamental truth exists beneath both - I am losing that which I love. Various other thoughts and feelings come to join each grief, depending on the cause, but the fundamental core of the grief, the water, if you will, is always - I am losing that which I love.
That said, I'm no oceanographer, so who knows ;) So glad you found some comfort in the meditation, Emily!
Wow. That is a stunning image. I think similarly about suffering -- there is the suffering of life that is inevitable, losing those we love, pain, more losses; but then there is the suffering that is unnecessary, that is caused by these strange forces that to many are inevitable but to the rest of us are a choice inflicted on the rest of life.
But I like the ocean images more. Maybe there's yet another, related to the vast span of the cosmos and time.
"I have long suspected that while we each carry our own, personal grief, beneath it lies The Grief—a vast, collective ocean made up of all the sorrow ever felt, by all beings, human and non." That first sentence resonates so deeply with me, Chloe. I am letting it sit in my subconscious to see what I feel in your words. I think practicing terraphilia is my response to that collective ocean of grief. And this practice you offer... such beauty, tenderness and openness in your images and guiding spirit. I found the last one very useful too, but there is something so mystical about this one; it's as if it speaks to a different part of me. Thank you. Solstice blessings to you from a long ways west around this numinous earth!
Oh I'm thrilled to know you listened to both, Susan! Thank you so much for taking the time. Terraphilia is the perfect response to The Grief, of course. Belated Solstice blessings to you, too. I hope you're nesting well in your new home 💛
Chloe, I found both really beautiful and meaningful. I can see how the first might be too intense for some people, but as you know from experience, once you've sat with death, for most of us, something inside opens and our fear shifts or maybe even recedes. Seems to me each meditation aims to reach us wherever we are.
Thank you for those belated solstice blessings! I am just happy to be where I feel at home. I have a lot of cleaning and fixing to do, and I am determined to be patient (so not my talent!) and take my time. Blessings and a hug to you.
The fallen oak is a beautiful image. I'm fascinated by the nurse logs and stumps I see here in the PNW. I loved the thought of nurturing new life even after death.
A friend passed this week. Your meditation appears at just the right time. 🙏
Today I was confronted by a grief that was not my own. I was called to bear witness to another's loss. It was hard, harder than I thought it would be. This feels timely, prescient, and helpful. Thank you.
Thank you Chloe. Thank you for having the courage and the reverence to pay attention to death. Thank you for sharing its wisdom with those of us not as courageous or well versed. And thank you for the mediation — I laid on my bed and did my best to really feel and absorb the truth you was putting down. I appreciate you. :)
Michael, I appreciate you! Thank you for taking the time to listen, it means a lot. As does your acknowledgement of what I'm trying to do, here. I see you, too, my friend :)
Your “updated” death meditation, Chloe Hope, brings to mind “Thanatopsis” by William Cullen Bryant. At first reading, five decades ago, Bryant’s message resonated with me and inspired me to memorize his words.
This update to your death meditation I embrace wholeheartedly. I visualized myself with back to the forest floor while studying the tree canopy. As I identify with the “Great Spirit” sense of existence, the words of your gentler meditation I found soothing. Thank you, Chloe.
Gosh, Gary. I had read that Bryant poem an absolute age ago, and had completely forgotten it. What a joy it was to re-read! Of course, several layers of it had opened up since my first meeting with it, such is the joy of revisiting poetry, years on. I can see why you were inspired to memorise it. Can you still recite it?
This meditation is beautiful, Chloe. I read the words and I will eventually go back and listen to the new meditation💞
However, I would like to express that I enjoyed the first death meditation. I finally listened to it today (while at work so I didn't get to fully experience it the way it's suppose to be). I listened to it twice and I loved it each time. It really resonated with me, specifically the parts about the heavy body, the light soul, going out of the body to a calm space somewhere in the universe, and coming back into the body. I will be putting a link to that post in my almost finished anniversary post, and I will include a link to this post as well💜💞
I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you about the first meditation. Life has been happening, and it's going to continue as is for about a month and a half before I can fully make a change. I feel you completely about what's going on in the world as well. Stay safe and I hope all goes well for you, dear friend💞💜
Hey, Kimber. No rush at all with the meditations, listen whenever the mood takes you! I'm really glad to know that you enjoyed the first one. I find it very relaxing myself, I usually fall fast asleep before I'm guided back into the body!
I hope all is well with you. Take good care of yourself, love ❤️
Both versions are lovely to me and I will listen to them again. It is such a nice listening ritual for a group of death doulas (as well as for anyone who wants to feel more comfortable around death). I felt as if a dormant brain wave had been activated as I listened. I wanted to stay up with the hawk for a bit longer!
A stunning death meditation… I was lost in forest floor, sinking, becoming, surrendering to earth and moss and creature … whilst ascending into joyous union looking down on what was - including my empty-of-life body. Thank you, thank you - what a gift your words are, a balm, an invitation. xxxx
Exquisite, thank you again Chloe. And so necessary to remember our shared cosmic inheritance right now (turns off radio news).
I wonder, do you ever feel that these meditations would perhaps be most necessary for - sadly - those not fortunate enough (or willing) to spend time with 'our cosmic inheritance'? Those who are entirely city-bound, perhaps, whether voluntarily or involuntarily; or those constrained by resources/demands?
Wordsworth thought as much a couple of centuries ago:
'The world is too much with us; late and soon, / Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;/ Little we see in Nature that is ours'.
But he also reckoned that Earth had nowt to show as fair as Westminster Bridge, so...? Make your mind up, William.
Thank you so much, Allie. I think you may be right, sadly. Who knows, maybe this will magic its way to one of them, but yes, it's the kind of thing that the people who probably need it most won't seek out. (Now you've got me thinking of ways to package something like this surreptitiously, like a Grand Theft Auto meditation that subtly drifts into a nature / connection-to-the-mystery meditation...)
I was 100% on board with Wordsworth up to Westminster Bridge (which, honestly, is like a 7/10 imo)
Your understanding of The Grief as a “vast, collective ocean made up of all the sorrow ever felt, by all beings, human and non” tracks for me. Though deep and vast, it also connects us. Walking in the world the morning after my father’s death, I felt such tenderness for everyone. And for the world.
Your meditation is such a generous offering. Thank you. 💚
Absolutely, we're all bound it (and much else, of course). I know that tenderness, there's something about being up close with death that can make everyone appear as vulnerable as a newborn (which, ultimately, we are).
Thanks so much for taking the time to listen, Julie! 💜
Having experienced the death meditation you shared previously a few times, and now this most beautiful new immersion, I found myself wondering: are there two oceans of grief, or only one?
The first, though vast and fathoms deep, stormy, powerful, and crushing - feels somehow crystal clear and cool. A grief that follows the natural turning of the seasons, the cycles of life and death, the ancient rhythm of the ages of Earth.
But the second is darker. Fetid, black currents that pull and swallow. A grief that wracks and ravages, born not of nature but of its breaking… genocide, war, ecocide, biocide, specicide. Where the natural cycle of life is broken and the turning of the seasons and the ages of the Earth cannot restore what has been destroyed…
So beautiful, Chloe. Thank you. I find growing comfort in reading and listening to your words. And apologies, my reflections turned a little dark at the end.
Never appologise for getting dark, ’tis my playground 🙃 With the ocean, I imagine it’s not dissimilar to the worlds; different areas with different names, different looks and different feels, but ultimately just one connected thing. For me, whether I’m grieving rampant and unchecked ecocide or the natural death of an elderly friend, a fundamental truth exists beneath both - I am losing that which I love. Various other thoughts and feelings come to join each grief, depending on the cause, but the fundamental core of the grief, the water, if you will, is always - I am losing that which I love.
That said, I'm no oceanographer, so who knows ;) So glad you found some comfort in the meditation, Emily!
This is fascinating. Maybe they only appear separate at times but come together at a place we haven’t yet seen?
Wow. That is a stunning image. I think similarly about suffering -- there is the suffering of life that is inevitable, losing those we love, pain, more losses; but then there is the suffering that is unnecessary, that is caused by these strange forces that to many are inevitable but to the rest of us are a choice inflicted on the rest of life.
But I like the ocean images more. Maybe there's yet another, related to the vast span of the cosmos and time.
"I have long suspected that while we each carry our own, personal grief, beneath it lies The Grief—a vast, collective ocean made up of all the sorrow ever felt, by all beings, human and non." That first sentence resonates so deeply with me, Chloe. I am letting it sit in my subconscious to see what I feel in your words. I think practicing terraphilia is my response to that collective ocean of grief. And this practice you offer... such beauty, tenderness and openness in your images and guiding spirit. I found the last one very useful too, but there is something so mystical about this one; it's as if it speaks to a different part of me. Thank you. Solstice blessings to you from a long ways west around this numinous earth!
Oh I'm thrilled to know you listened to both, Susan! Thank you so much for taking the time. Terraphilia is the perfect response to The Grief, of course. Belated Solstice blessings to you, too. I hope you're nesting well in your new home 💛
Chloe, I found both really beautiful and meaningful. I can see how the first might be too intense for some people, but as you know from experience, once you've sat with death, for most of us, something inside opens and our fear shifts or maybe even recedes. Seems to me each meditation aims to reach us wherever we are.
Thank you for those belated solstice blessings! I am just happy to be where I feel at home. I have a lot of cleaning and fixing to do, and I am determined to be patient (so not my talent!) and take my time. Blessings and a hug to you.
The fallen oak is a beautiful image. I'm fascinated by the nurse logs and stumps I see here in the PNW. I loved the thought of nurturing new life even after death.
A friend passed this week. Your meditation appears at just the right time. 🙏
Yes, me too. So much life in and on them. I'm sorry to hear of your friends passing, John. Sending you love.
Thank you Chloe.
Wow, this landed on me right where I needed a steady weight.
Birds are my buoy, too.
I especially resonated with the sentiment of shock that grief delivers, even when it is a frequent visitor.
Thank you, Chloe.
Allison, I'm so glad it found you at the right time.
Thank you for taking the time to listen.
Today I was confronted by a grief that was not my own. I was called to bear witness to another's loss. It was hard, harder than I thought it would be. This feels timely, prescient, and helpful. Thank you.
Evelyn, I'm so glad to hear it was helpful, and I'm sorry to hear of the loss. Greatest respect for you and your witness bearing.
Thank you. Holding space is hard, but I try my best not to shrink away. Presence is often the best gift we have to give.
Thank you Chloe. Thank you for having the courage and the reverence to pay attention to death. Thank you for sharing its wisdom with those of us not as courageous or well versed. And thank you for the mediation — I laid on my bed and did my best to really feel and absorb the truth you was putting down. I appreciate you. :)
Michael, I appreciate you! Thank you for taking the time to listen, it means a lot. As does your acknowledgement of what I'm trying to do, here. I see you, too, my friend :)
All that’s left after reading all the way to the end, is a deep, contented sigh. The beauty of your images is so satisfying! Thank you, Chloe.
Oh, I am glad to hear that, Mary. Thank you!
🙏
Your “updated” death meditation, Chloe Hope, brings to mind “Thanatopsis” by William Cullen Bryant. At first reading, five decades ago, Bryant’s message resonated with me and inspired me to memorize his words.
This update to your death meditation I embrace wholeheartedly. I visualized myself with back to the forest floor while studying the tree canopy. As I identify with the “Great Spirit” sense of existence, the words of your gentler meditation I found soothing. Thank you, Chloe.
Gosh, Gary. I had read that Bryant poem an absolute age ago, and had completely forgotten it. What a joy it was to re-read! Of course, several layers of it had opened up since my first meeting with it, such is the joy of revisiting poetry, years on. I can see why you were inspired to memorise it. Can you still recite it?
Thank you so much for listening, Gary.
This meditation is beautiful, Chloe. I read the words and I will eventually go back and listen to the new meditation💞
However, I would like to express that I enjoyed the first death meditation. I finally listened to it today (while at work so I didn't get to fully experience it the way it's suppose to be). I listened to it twice and I loved it each time. It really resonated with me, specifically the parts about the heavy body, the light soul, going out of the body to a calm space somewhere in the universe, and coming back into the body. I will be putting a link to that post in my almost finished anniversary post, and I will include a link to this post as well💜💞
I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you about the first meditation. Life has been happening, and it's going to continue as is for about a month and a half before I can fully make a change. I feel you completely about what's going on in the world as well. Stay safe and I hope all goes well for you, dear friend💞💜
Hey, Kimber. No rush at all with the meditations, listen whenever the mood takes you! I'm really glad to know that you enjoyed the first one. I find it very relaxing myself, I usually fall fast asleep before I'm guided back into the body!
I hope all is well with you. Take good care of yourself, love ❤️
Exquisite
Thank you, Dominika!
Both versions are lovely to me and I will listen to them again. It is such a nice listening ritual for a group of death doulas (as well as for anyone who wants to feel more comfortable around death). I felt as if a dormant brain wave had been activated as I listened. I wanted to stay up with the hawk for a bit longer!
Thank you…
Wonderful! I'm so glad, Anne. Thank you
The blessing you closed with is so beautiful, Chloe. Thank you for that.
Thank you for being here, Grace!
A stunning death meditation… I was lost in forest floor, sinking, becoming, surrendering to earth and moss and creature … whilst ascending into joyous union looking down on what was - including my empty-of-life body. Thank you, thank you - what a gift your words are, a balm, an invitation. xxxx
Oh, I'm SO pleased, Nicky - thank you for letting me know! ❤️
Exquisite, thank you again Chloe. And so necessary to remember our shared cosmic inheritance right now (turns off radio news).
I wonder, do you ever feel that these meditations would perhaps be most necessary for - sadly - those not fortunate enough (or willing) to spend time with 'our cosmic inheritance'? Those who are entirely city-bound, perhaps, whether voluntarily or involuntarily; or those constrained by resources/demands?
Wordsworth thought as much a couple of centuries ago:
'The world is too much with us; late and soon, / Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;/ Little we see in Nature that is ours'.
But he also reckoned that Earth had nowt to show as fair as Westminster Bridge, so...? Make your mind up, William.
Thank you so much, Allie. I think you may be right, sadly. Who knows, maybe this will magic its way to one of them, but yes, it's the kind of thing that the people who probably need it most won't seek out. (Now you've got me thinking of ways to package something like this surreptitiously, like a Grand Theft Auto meditation that subtly drifts into a nature / connection-to-the-mystery meditation...)
I was 100% on board with Wordsworth up to Westminster Bridge (which, honestly, is like a 7/10 imo)