Grief as a Force for Transformation
Finding Hope Amid the Pain
Grief touches us all. As personal as the loss of a loved one, as collective as the mourning for the genocide of Palestinians, or a forest burned, a river dammed, or a species gone forever. Grief can knock us off our feet, leaving us gasping for air, lost in a fog of questions. And yet, through this darkness, a spark emerges. A whisper of change. This is not the hope of our parents or the neatly packaged hope found in glossy self-help books. It’s not the American dream of generations past. This is a raw, ragged hope—the kind that doesn’t get you up in the morning, but helps you get through the day.
Grief can shatter us. But those fragments left behind can become something more—a mosaic of purpose, a force for transformation. We’re not trying to find a silver lining or bypassing the depth of our pain. We’re honoring our broken pieces, laying them out in the sun, and allowing them to take shape in ways that fuel us toward something new.
Grief as a Path to Profound Change
Personal loss changes us, fundamentally. It strips away the pretenses, the things that don’t really matter, and forces us to confront what does. The loss of a loved one, the collapse of a dream, the fading of hope—these are all initiations. They push us to our edges, asking us to look deeply into the chasm of our pain. And when we do, something extraordinary happens: we begin to see a new way forward. Our timelines shift.
Collective grief is no different. We grieve for our planet, for communities torn apart by injustice, for the relentless tide of political turmoil, for colonialism and its disjointed identities. This grief, while crushing, can also be our call to action. It brings us together, reminds us that we are not alone in our sorrow. We share this pain, and in that sharing, we find the strength to stand up and do the work, to connect, to push back against the tide of despair. We seek wholeness, we seek integration, we seek joy and justice and the fullness of life.
Techniques for Finding Meaning After Loss
So, how do we take this grief and transform it into something meaningful?
Sit With the Pain: It sounds simple, yet it's the hardest thing to do. Sit with your grief. Feel it. Allow it to seep into every part of you. Grief doesn't want to be fixed or explained away; it wants to be witnessed. In this witnessing, we honor the loss and we honor our own experience as the griever. We can’t push it away, or “try to be strong”. Strength lies in letting our feelings be felt.
Build Rituals: Rituals give form to the formless. They can be as simple as lighting a candle, journaling each morning, or taking a walk amongst trees. Create a ritual that allows you to express your grief, to speak to it, and, in time, to learn from it, gives it a space and time, its own space in our shelf.
Seek Community: Grief can make us feel isolated, but it is inherently communal. Seek out others who are grieving. Share stories, listen, and find solace in each other. Community is where our grief can transform into collective action, where our individual sorrow becomes a powerful drive for change, for trying new things. Here grief is allowed to move and stretch, and lean into the possibility of something new.
Find a Purpose: Grief opens our eyes to the world’s injustices and fragility. It can be the starting point for activism, for protecting what remains, for building a world where others do not have to endure the same pain. Let your grief become a compass, pointing you toward a cause that resonates deeply with your heart. Sometimes these are big systemic things, other times small individual things. Meaning is in it all.
Hope, But Not the Glossy Kind
This hope I speak of isn’t the neatly wrapped, comforting hope we’re often sold. It’s a fierce hope, born from the reality of our pain, but also from our experience of joy. It doesn’t deny the bleakness of our current timeline—the political mess, the environmental disasters, the loss upon loss. It sits right there with it. This hope is stubborn and it’s rooted in truth, not in false promises or quick fixes or denials.
The hope that carries us forward isn't about saying, “It’ll all be okay.” It’s about saying, “This hurts, and I will still act.” It’s about the strength to keep planting seeds even when the world feels barren. It’s about the courage to reach out and build community, to stand in solidarity with others grieving. It’s about finding that one small step you can take today, knowing it won’t fix everything, it might not make a difference in the great big scope of things, but it will make a difference to you. It will transform you from passive to active. From object to subject. And we have to believe that sometimes this is enough.
This hope is the kind that grows from the roots of our grief, nourished by the tears we’ve shed. It connects us to the earth, to each other, to the memory of those we’ve lost. It is a hope that says, “Because I have known loss, I will fight for what remains. Because I have felt this pain, I will not let it be in vain.”
Inspiration Grounded in Reality
To be inspired to act without glossing over reality is to acknowledge that this world, as it stands, is filled with suffering. But within that suffering, there are seeds of transformation. We’re not looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. We’re finding beauty in the cracks, in the stubborn plants that push through concrete, in the communities that form in the wake of disaster. We are connecting to an inner joy born out of grief and stubbornness. We will build our happiness in spite of the efforts to keep us oppressed.
Let grief inspire us to do the work—building sanctuaries for each other. Let it move us to fight for justice, to protect what’s sacred, and to remember that every act of kindness, every protest, every time we gather to mourn and to hope, is a radical act of love.
Grief is not something to be "fixed." It’s a force, a teacher, a portal. It’s here to remind us of the depth of our connection to everything around us. And through that connection, we find the strength to rise, to act, and to carry forward a hope that is deep, fierce, and unbreakable.
Michelle Carrera is a death doula, grief educator, and animal chaplain dedicated to guiding others through the profound journey of death, grief and liberation. With a focus on decolonial practices, spirituality, and nature-based healing, she creates spaces for reflection and transformation. If this resonates with you, I invite you to connect with me for deeper conversations on grief, death, and liberation. Let's walk this path together. www.griefandliberation.com