On The Blessedness Of Sorrow

We have come again to the lunar moment of endings and renewals, of death and rebirth, and this time the intense power of elemental Fire is with us, inspiring us, driving us, and burning us to ash on the pyre so that we can go forth and fertilize the world in the growing year. In this precious moment, aching with potential and driving force, I am moved to speak of that experience that hollows us out, of those moments in our lives when the weeping has gone on so long that the tears have scorched our eyes dry, of those times when our heart has broken open so that the sweetness can drip out.

I am moved to speak of sorrow.

Some of you, I am sure, are surprised at my topic this month, though it is not the first time I have spoken on such subjects. Sorrow is not often praised, especially in American culture, where emotions categorized as “negative” are often pathologized and avoided at all costs. We are invited by the modern world—and especially capitalism—to run away from sorrow, to seek pleasure and entertainment and, if necessary, therapy and medication, if ever a moment of sorrow troubles us. We are taught that any unpleasant emotion is a problem to be solved rather than an experience to be lived. Even magick, mysticism, and the spiritual life have been co-opted by the “wellness” industry that promises its customers that if they “raise their vibrations”, if they just do the right rituals, think the right thoughts, buy the right products, and don’t forget to like and subscribe, that they will never experience sorrow again.

And that is all deeply, deeply unhealthy.

As a pagan, I believe in a naturalized theology. I believe that the Divine manifests through the natural world, revealing Themselves in every budding flower, in every crawling insect, in every bit of rot and growth and light and dark. I believe that the cycles of nature and the processes of the natural world reveal the formulae of magick and that it is wisdom to look to those cycles and processes for clues to our destinies. And within those cycles and processes, we find again and again the hard moment, the crisis, that time of suffering and loss that comes before rebirth and renewal. Within the solar year, there is Winter. Within the lunar month, there is the New Moon. And within our lives, there are those dark moments where we wash our tear-stained faces, look at our reflections in the bathroom mirror, and feel like we will shake ourselves apart with pain, desolation, and sorrow.

I could tell you about how the act of crying flushes stress hormones from our bodies. I could tell you about the various psychodynamic models of psychology that talk about how we need to “process” our difficult emotions by actually experiencing and expressing them rather than trying to escape or suppress them. I could talk about the “Five Stages Of Grief” model that has become the darling of oh so many T.V. show plots. And all of that might help my case. But that is not my vocation. I am not a medical doctor nor a psychologist and I am not here today to make an argument. I am a priestess and I am here to tell you that your sorrow is not wrong. It’s not something to try to get rid of, some aberration in our “normal” lives that we should try to treat with medicine and therapy like an illness. It is hard enough to feel sorrow without having to feel like something is wrong with us because we are feeling it. It is hard enough to feel our heart break without feeling like we owe the world an apology, too.

I know that there are people out there reading these words that are gripped in sorrow right now, that there are people right here in our community whose hearts are breaking. The political world and the economic world have especially been bearing down upon so many people and I know that many are being pushed to breaking points. Sometimes we see and hear it, but far more often our friends, family, loved ones, and community members keep their sorrow to themselves. Reasons vary. Some feel embarrassed. Some don’t want to burden others. Some just feel so alone that they don’t know who they would tell. So I want to speak to those people right now, the people who are suffering, who are sorrowing, whose hearts are breaking.

I see you. I love you. The Divine loves you. Your sorrow is not ugly. It is not a burden. It is not shameful. You are not broken. You are amazing, a miracle formed out of the light shed by the Divine, and your tears are beautiful.

Blessed New Moon, dear ones. As always, feel free to contact me for pastoral care or with prayer requests. I am here to tend the Garden.

In love,

Soror Alice

Art: Odilon Redon, “Melancholy”, (1876)