Daybreak in the Rainforest of Grief

I found myself thinking about daybreak in the rainforest of Belize, where we had just returned from our inaugural Sacred Journey With Grief retreat. Sunrise there doesn’t feel gradual the way it does in the Colorado mountains. Instead, it’s as if a shade begins slowly lifting. Within minutes, pitch-black darkness gives way to daylight.

At that exact moment, the birds begin to chirp.

Some are subtle yet steady. Others louder and more insistent. You can hear them before you ever see them. It takes patience—and focused attention—to finally spot them. Often, they are camouflaged, hidden deep in the brush, their colors blending easily into the landscape. They sit so still it seems as though they are quietly waiting to be recognized.

But once the bird comes into full view and the light shines clearly upon it, its hues and shades begin to reveal themselves. In the right light, their beauty is breathtaking. When they appear in pairs, this beauty becomes even more evident as they chirp back and forth before taking flight in search of nourishment.

Birdwatching takes effort. You have to rise early. The world is quiet then, and distractions have not yet begun competing for your attention. Often the naked eye alone isn’t enough to see the depth and richness of what is there. A closer look through binoculars helps bring it into focus.

Sometimes the birding guides at Chaa Creek would perfectly mimic the birds’ calls. And the birds would answer.

Birding, in many ways, is not unlike grief.

The busyness of life can be like that shade casting darkness over the grief within us. But when the shade lifts—when there is no longer busyness to cover it—our grief can suddenly feel exposed, as though a bright light were shining directly upon it.

At first, grief may sit quietly, unnoticed. But in the right light, it becomes undeniable.

When others give voice to their grief, we often find ourselves called to express our own—just as the birds answer one another’s calls. In this way, we take flight with our grief, searching for nourishment, for recognition.

And in the right light, the depth—and even the beauty—of grief can be seen.

This is the work of grief. Steady. Gradual. Repetitive. Quietly resting in the dark, and then rising again to be seen, heard, and nourished.

This is the sacred work we witnessed and nurtured at our Sacred Journey With Grief retreat. With patience, focus, attention, its depth slowly came into view.  

There were so many moments of transformation—moments when the hues and colors of grief were breathtaking in their beauty. Because within that grief, within that heartbreak, is pure love.

The courage we witnessed as our attendees embraced that love—even, and especially alongside the pain—was as unique and spellbinding as the vibrant hues of those tropical birds.

And this is what we hope for you in your grief: recognition, nourishment, and eyes that can truly see the beauty within the heartbreak.

May you rest upon the branch when you need to.

May you call out when your voice longs to be heard, trusting the beauty of your song.

May you take flight in search of the nourishment that sustains you.

And may you shine in the authenticity of your own vibrant colors.