Tending your grief

Finding footing

What might that mean for you – tending your grief? Has this idea of tending been in your sightlines? I think we all need to do this tending to. Tending to ourselves, to others, to our lives, and to our grief.

I think it is fairly common for yoga practitioners to use yoga for tending to their physical selves. Most people start a yoga practice as a way to get healthier, to exercise and move their bodies. Take a class with friends and then lunch/dinner date afterwards. Perhaps yoga is a way for you to relax, chill, and even maintain a quieter mind after leaving the studio. Grounding yourself.

But tending to grief? Not sure that is what comes to mind for most.

But, for me, very much so. Yoga, plain old yoga, taught me how to tend my grief. Not just tend my grief but also stay with my grief. And come out the other side holding on to my grief, keeping it with me, less of the other way around. Everything changed around.

My grief changed when I found my footing. Found with the help of yoga.

This was not a solo expedition! There were (and are) very influential and important teachers guiding and bringing me through, placing opportunities and tools at my feet, nudging them closer if I didn't notice. Really though, it was on me to come back and ask yoga for what I needed. And ask again and again and again and again. I am still asking!

Graduation night from SYTT, Feb 2020, with two of my favorite teachers: my mother Charlotte Zoe Walker and Savonn Wyland.

How I use yoga, and not just for grief

Usually I use my yoga practice to be receptive to what is offered by the teacher. Opportunities to find what is needed in the moment, whether or not I am aware of which needs I have.

Of course, there's the yoga asanas, the physical poses and movements. It always feels great to move and find a rhythm to movement that can be both comforting and challenging. The repetition and ritual of it. The savasana finish.

Pausing in meditation, setting aside the noise of "before class starts" rush and arrive there on my mat. Pausing so I am not fixing problems, no busy-ness, running errands, or whatever else I am in the midst of. Being guided in meditation to the beginning of my practice.

Then of course breathwork, conscious and focused breathing. Letting breath out. Pulling it back in. Slowing it down, feeling the rhythm of it, not holding or restricting. Accepting how my breath can also assist in my mood.

During teacher training we studied the Yoga Sutras and philosophy of yoga, including the study of the 8 Limbs of Yoga. For me the Yamas and Niyamas are reminders to stay present in my internal and external life.  (If curious, read more on the 8 Limbs here.)

Rest is so important when we are grieving; our nervous systems are so activated by grief, by feelings that can overwhelm us. When resting in specific restorative poses and going beyond savasana pose, I feel the effects of grief on my nervous system begin to lessen. My body and brain begin to process the trauma and open to healing. My whole body feels the benefit of really slowing down. Rest is calming my nervous system and I’m finding support from props, from the ground, from warmth and comfort, from ambient sound. From yoga.

All these different aspects, pieces, and slices of my practice came together over time. Helping me heal and move forward. Unsticking my stuck parts, tending to myself, and tending to my grief.

Receptivity and why

There is no avoiding grief. It comes from everywhere and anywhere. It can be small, insignificant, minute. Random feelings popping in. Deeper losses and yearnings: ancient, recent, unremembered. No matter the size or source, grief is not insignificant.

Without realizing it, my practice started keeping me open, helping me tune in to yoga offerings, to be receptive. Somehow I found I truly was receptive to releasing. Yoga calmed me, encompassed and encircled me. I found rituals and recipes that could be repeated. A community was created and those around me were supportive. The grief work to be done was still my own, but was done more easily practicing yoga in the presence of others.

At a certain point, I noticed the impact of "grief" landmarks had lessened and how that felt good, to feel things swim in and out. To feel my grip loosening and then decide to chase those feelings more intentionally. And as I was feeling both the benefits and releasing my grip, what I then wanted was to share this more intimately with others. I found I wanted and needed to share this tending to grief. This I could do, I could create a workshop and offer to others what I now want and need.

Yoga for Grief Relief Workshop

What I offer in this workshop is what I have found most helpful and healing. Starting in December, on the first Fridays, there will be a once-monthly Yoga for Grief Relief workshop* from 2:00-3:30pm at Sellwood Yoga.

As we arrive on our mats, guided meditation is our starting place. Practicing gentle Hatha yoga and conscious breathwork will help emotions move through our bodies. There will be both restorative yoga poses and time in extended savasana. Rest is an antidote.

The language of poetry can express emotions in ways we are unable to and I will bring poems to share. Poetry can bring another layer to processing and understanding our grief. A thread to follow. 

The last component is the Sellwood Yoga studio. I believe it is both a wonderful place and a holding space. A space to be still in and to receive. A place to be in communion with others also grieving. A place of rest.

You can attend in person or live stream. A recording available for 7 days will be provided if you can't attend live. Please read here for additional details and visit Sellwood Yoga to register.

Note: this is not a series but a stand-alone workshop, although you are welcome to sign up every month. The offering will be there for you.

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*This workshop will be different from the 4-week workshop series Monica Welty, LMT, and I have co-led this past year. That series returns in February 2026 and more details are here.