The people's archeological dig
soul research with the squad
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Every time I go to write the word grief, I forget how to spell it.
I before E but that looks weird, E before I it’s anybody’s guess.
And I type this word a lot these days.
Earlier this week I listened back to my conversation with dear pal and soul poet Mary Grace Allerdice on the Home-Body podcast, and heard myself say:
The dominant over-culture does not make space for the long and complex, shape-shifting queerness of grief.
It’s amusing to me that even in my attempts to spell the word, it shall not be pinned down and understood.
Mercurial. Slippery.
Like being swaddled in black silk, that is all at once highly sensual and also like being kidnapped with a hood thrown over your head and escorted to the underworld.
Dommed by grief.
I didn’t really anticipate turning into *grief girl* and yet here I stand, watching my facilitation work become deeply embroiled in the fine art of losing and letting go.
It came for me and hasn’t let me loose from its grip is all I can say.
Well actually, I have my pal Kerry partially to thank for being snatched by the vortex of grief work.
Last year, I did this thing where I asked a handful of friends and acquaintances what they come to me for, as in, what’s the issue or topic or problem that has them say, OH Mel knows about this, lemme hit her up...
I did this as a quick and dirty clarity exercise for better understanding my business and work in the world. I highly recommend it even if you don’t have a business. It’s fascinating to learn how others in your orbit perceive your gifts, skills and support language. And then you can do the same for them, which feels like an even bigger gift to volley that reflection right back, you know?
So Kerry was all like Ok I come to you for this, this, this and DEATH STUFF.
Skkrrr…death stuff?
It hadn’t occurred to me that walking the long road of mourning a dead parent for so many years could be like, a skill set lol.
Which I think speaks to the death-and-grief-disassociation our culture proliferates.
Yikes avoid at all costs! Don’t acknowledge! Bury the idea that death is our greatest wisdom-bringer!
Shout out KJ, for the initiatory sparkle.
Though I’m really not an expert on this stuff. Which is fantastic.
Because, more and more, I’m certain that grief wisdom is the domain of the commons. We do no
t need experts. We need the people’s collective archeological dig.
We need the expertise of everyone’s lived experience.
The latest cohort of Grief Threads just wrapped and MY GOD, the power of the community wisdom bank, I tell you what! Gathering around the glowing firelight of a zoom screen for storytelling, improvised ritual and collective grief research will really change the vividness of mundane living.
This is the future of knowledge acquisition in my humble opinion. Not this class specifically, but this way of being together.
Lateral and interconnected.
Co-scholarship through small group discussion that gets to tease out these big questions about being alive and not being alive. Everyone has a key to someone else's lock.
And I know, I’m gushing here, but what I really want to say is I hope everybody finds their people to conduct this kind of soul research with, whatever that looks like. I wish for everyone to have the spaces and containers they need to really let it rip. To practice witnessing and being witnessed in your whole messy unruly spilling-out-in-all-directions self.
And to know that THAT is PhD level research.
Listen to my conversation with Mary Grace on the Home-Body podcast HERE
We talk about sewing and handwork practices for healing, moving at the speed of our hands to return to our center, and fashion as a protective spell among other juicy ripe topics.
<3
I’ve been deep in the studio cave, working on a series of Cloth Collages. Which are mini quilts as art for the home. For the wall, for a table, for the altar.
Stay tuned for a limited batch sale announcement next week.
xo m
