Moving Through Grief

Moving Through Grief

I found that moving my body, whether it was a slow walk in the park, a simple yoga sequence, or even just dancing around my living room like no one was watching, helped in releasing the tension knotting my body, and dissipating some of the heaviness. It was as though each movement was a wordless declaration: I’m still here, I’m still alive, and I’m finding my way back to joy.

And in those quiet, solitary moments of just being, of just breathing, I found more than just comfort – I found glimmers of happiness that was still very much alive within me, patiently waiting for their time to shine again.

Accepting my pain wasn’t about denying its existence or trying to escape from it. It was about recognition, embracing it as an intrinsic part of my life’s pattern. My experiences – all the happiness and sorrow, the losses and wins – all interlaced, creating a complex yet beautiful portrait of my existence.

I want you to know that it’s okay to sit with your grief, to let the heavy feelings wash over you. But it’s also okay, even necessary, to move, to stir the stagnant energy inside you. As I discovered, movement can be a great, silent language of healing. It’s like a conversation you’re having with yourself, each stretch, each step, each breath whispering words of solace, understanding, and renewal to your soul.

Sometimes the world can seem too loud, too chaotic when we’re grieving. We can feel lost, alone in a sea of noise and movement that feels unending, unyielding. But in those times, I remember that I have my body, my own world of senses that I can turn to, that can provide a different kind of solace.

You see, maybe it’s the rhythm of your heartbeat as you walk, the comforting familiarity of your breath flowing in and out, the release in your muscles as you stretch – these are all testaments that despite everything, you’re still here, still alive, and because of it you are capable of feeling joy again.

I know, It might seem distant now, but it’s there, somewhere within you, waiting for its moment to resurface. It’s okay if all you can manage today is a tiny step or a single, deep breath. Each one is a victory, a testament to your resilience, your inherent strength.

And as you move, there is no need to rush. Grief doesn’t adhere to timelines, and healing can’t be hurried. It’s a dance that is unique to each of us. You might stumble, you might pause, you might take steps backward, and that’s alright. Each day might not feel easier, but each day is a step forward, nonetheless. Your body will carry you through it, with more grace and strength than you may credit it for.

Your body is your ally in this. It holds the story of you, the laughter and tears, the love and pain. And while it carries the imprint of your sorrow, it also harbors the potential for healing and happiness. Just as your heart knows how to ache, it knows how to rejoice. And just as your body knows how to hold onto pain, it knows how to let go.

So, move, even when it feels tough. Do it gently, do it with kindness toward yourself. Let your body talk to you, listen to its whispers, its silent encouragements. Because within that movement, within that dialogue, you’ll find pieces of yourself you thought were lost. And little by little, step by step, breath by breath, you’ll begin to see those glimmers of happiness grow brighter.

After all, you’re not moving away from your grief, you’re moving through it, toward a place where your pain and joy can coexist, creating the beautiful, intricate pattern that is your life.

I’m Here

On those heavy days,

when sadness clings,

when each moment stings

and hope barely sings,

I found a remedy,

subtle yet profound,

in the simple, healing act 

of moving around.

 

Just a walk, 

slow and steady, 

under the sky’s vault,

Every step an echo, 

every pause a halt.

“I’m here,” 

my footsteps say, tracing the dew,

“I’m alive,” 

they insist, pressing onto the new.

 

In my living room,

where only shadows cast a glance,

My body finds its rhythm,

it takes its chance.

In the spin, in the sway, in the dance,

“I’m here,”

my body whispers in its soothing trance

 

The yoga mat, 

a canvas for my soul,

In every little bend, 

in every simple stretch, 

I play my role.

“I’m here,” 

my breath assures me, 

as I regain control,

“And I’ll be here to weather any toll.”

 

In quiet moments, 

when the world’s noise recedes,

not mere survival, 

but something more my body breathes.

Through the ache, the pain, 

still raw and sore,

glimmers of happiness 

my body starts to explore.

 

“I’m here,”

my body softly speaking, 

under the pain’s hum,

Quietly resilient, 

it hasn’t succumbed.

With each step, each breath,

as a new day greets the sun,

my body affirms,

“I am here, we’ve only just begun.”

(2018 © Julia Delaney)

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Step by Step

When the world is loud,

and the chaos crowd,

it’s alright to sit,

to let grief admit.

yet, within the still,

stirs a hidden will,

a silent language of healing,

in moving and feeling.

 

The rhythm of my heart, 

as I pace,

my breath, 

a comforting grace,

the release in my limbs 

as they stretch,

whispers of solace in each etch.

 

Lost in the sea of noise and flurry,

alone, 

in the incessant worry,

Yet within me, 

a different kind of peace,

my senses, my solace, my release.

 

The sound of my steps on the lane,

the flow of my breath, 

like soothing rain,

The release in my body, 

so profound,

proof of life 

in every sound.

 

It may seem distant, 

joy’s soft glow,

yet within you, 

it waits to grow.

A tiny step, 

a single breath,

each a birth, 

each a death.

 

No need to rush, 

there’s no race to run,

grief dances at its own whim.

A stumble, 

a pause, 

steps gone astray…

each day a step forward, 

in its own way.

 

Your body, 

your ally, 

strong and brave,

holds your stories, 

every laugh, 

every rave.

Imprinted with sorrow, 

yet also with bliss,

it knows how to heal, 

it knows how to miss.

 

So, move, 

even when it’s tough,

with kindness and love, 

gentle and rough.

Let your body speak, 

its whispers heed,

within its dialogue, 

you’ll find the seed.

 

Lost pieces found, 

in the sway,

in the rhythm of life,

in the play.

Step by step, 

breath by breath,

the glow of happiness, 

rebirth from death.

(2017 © Julia Delaney)

Be Alive 🌱
Love ❤️, Julia

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