An old German proverb says, “Begin to weave and God will provide the thread.” Likewise: when we begin to grieve, Grace will reveal the way. Are we breathing—or being breathed? Are we grieving—or being grieved? Are we actually weaving our lives—or are we being carefully woven, and intricately interconnected by Grace?

What happens when life dissolves who we thought we were or stretches us beyond what we thought we could endure? How do we learn to walk the landless path of loss? This precarious edge can be terrifying. Throughout the well-trodden, pathless voyage—the birth canal of grieving—we are often plunged into the great vat of the unknown.

Often, dualistic thinking begins to dissolve. Once-clung-to beliefs begin to decompose. What was once familiar begins to vanish. Reference points, which previously helped us navigate our way through life, slowly, and sometimes abruptly, disappear. It’s a profound initiation—a sacred shattering and irreversible blessing in disguise—through which we often abandon who we thought we were and become pilgrims on the medicine wheel of wonderment.

When we slither out of the worn-out skin of conditioned thinking and let go of the illusion of separateness, the programmed mind becomes a vestigial memory. When we taste a cry deeper than all sound and touch the emptiness too vast for words, when we tremble on the precipice of grief, the dissolution of the concept of a separate self has already begun. The brittle, shielding carapace of identity is being carefully dismembered by a Divine Protector who bestows liberation. Through this holy disillusionment we are invited—and sometimes coerced—to engage with the paradox of opposites like never before. Groundlessness becomes the new norm. Often, we are flung into a direct, unadorned encounter with reality with nothing to grasp. If we are fortunate, we will liquify—as caterpillars do—and re-emerge completely transformed.

During metamorphosis, a caterpillar’s body undergoes a process of tissue-destruction called histolysis, where most of its tissues and organs break down into a kind of cellular soup. This is followed by the rebuilding process called histogenesis, during which the cells reorganize and differentiate to form the adult structures of the butterfly or moth. This transformation is truly remarkable and is a key part of the insect’s life cycle.

A caterpillar’s brain and nerve cells are physically rearranged during the metamorphosis. This would be akin to taking your entire brain, carving it up, then putting it back together backwards… It is unlikely that the caterpillar is aware during the process, more likely it is in a state of suspension.

Chrysalises and cocoons are essential for caterpillars to change into butterflies and moths, just as chrysalis and cocoon-like spaces are crucial for all grieving creatures, including humans. These womblike spaces hold and suspend us while we undergo deep transformation. Trust the process! Surrender everything when you enter this inner sanctum.

Surrendering into grief makes our earth walk more susceptible to grace.

There are as many ways to grieve, and weave, as there are sentient hearts to break open and to be woven together. Hollowed by Grief, Hallowed by Grace is simply one woman’s way.

In wonderment and love,

—Rashani V. Réa