Grief: A Sacred Companion
- jazminlistens
- Jun 13
- 3 min read
Updated: 5 days ago
Grief is proof that we have loved.
An emotion like any other that needs to be expressed – not suppressed - for its lesson to be truly realized.
Grief doesn’t only arrive when someone we love chooses to depart the physical. That’s just its most recognizable form. It surfaces when we say goodbye to a place, a chapter, or a version of ourselves we’ve outgrown. It shows up in quiet moments when a life we could have lived fades into the background – even when we’re grateful we didn’t live it.
Sometimes it shows up as a longing for something we can’t quite name. A silent ache. A yearning we can’t articulate. It hides behind brave smiles, beneath silence, inside flashes of anger, or waves of intense sadness. Because at its essence, grief is the echo of lost connection. And that connection doesn’t need to be with a person for it matter.
Grief is a sacred form transmutation. Its energy being cleared, recalibrated, and released. While it feels overwhelming in the moment, it does more than we realize – cleansing the body, honoring what has been, and making space for what’s next.

Spiritually it acts as a gateway, portal, into evolution. When we understand grief as an honoring, there is no need to tie it to a specific story or view it through negative filters. We can begin to unhook it from judgment.
Sadness, longing, missing – these are not enemies. They’re sacred messengers. Allow them to move through you. Give them their moment to say what needs to be acknowledged. Only then can you truly release what’s already gone, or what was meant to stay.
There is freedom on the other side of honoring and releasing. Two truths can be held at once: one that misses, and one that honors.
When you practice this dual awareness, the mind slowly rewires. Grief becomes not only pain, but reverence. In truth, nothing is truly lost in this existence, merely moved out of the way, or into another form, so something new can enter.
Grief as a sacred teacher, has been moving through my own life in many ways, not loudly but persistently. Recently, I have found myself submerged in sadness, of what I cannot quite define.
There’s grief for the life I used to have, one I could have lived, and one that I’m slowing transiting out of. There’s a loneliness of being misunderstood. In not being met as deeply as I long to be. And an even deeper loneliness that comes from constantly adjusting my own lens – softening my vision – so I can remain open to people who cannot yet see what I see.
There’s a longing for a home that I haven’t found on this planet. A deep tiredness of living what feels like I life I’ve outgrown. And sorrow in realizing that some people simply may not have the capacity to be with me, or there for me, in the ways my heart desires.

When I stop resisting, let the feelings magnify and the tears fall - it feels like I’m being ripped apart. The agony is sharp, unbearable sometimes and immediately after, I feel raw and sensitive. But I can breathe again. The weight lifts. The energy that was trapped finally moves.
The next time I think about whatever sparked the grief, it won’t lead to more tears but to a sense of calm knowing that I loved deeply. And that’s what the ache was trying to show me.
Everyone grieves differently and there is not ‘end’ to it. To be human is to grieve – again and again - throughout our lifetime. When we allow ourselves to feel grief fully, we open the door to profound spiritual growth. It softens our resistance to change. It reminds us of the value of impermanence. And it deepens our capacity for compassion.
As always, courage is required. To feel the emotion, to stay present when it hurts. To be vulnerable. Most people avoid this space because they think it makes them weak. The truth is masking your emotions and pretending you are ok when you’re not – that’s the real weakness.
What are you grieving that you haven’t allowed yourself to acknowledge? And what might shift if you did?
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