The medicine for grasping is grieving

Dear One,

Some may say the medicine for grasping is gratitude.

But I believe that most often, grieving is what's needed first.

When we find ourselves anxious for the future, it's often that some past hurt still has a hold.

When we have a death grip on decisions, fearing the worst that we've known, we strangle possibility out of our visions, and our intuitive knowing doesn't have a chance to voice her truth.

But, when our griefs, our hurts, our longings are finally given space to be heard, they're able to shift, to heal, to make beautiful space for what previously felt impossible.

This season teaches us all about how natural and healing grief is.

Our ancestors knew this.

With the light fading, and the life of plants and animals and insects retreating away and down and inward, they recognized how we must honor the power of death, of releasing, of natural endings.

They marked this time between the autumnal equinox and winter solstice as a time to honor the sacred cycle of death, to remember and make offerings to ancestors, to clear out what's no longer needed.

From {Into the Dark}:


The sun is descending.

Go to the West where everything is washed clean.

Into the water to grieve what needs grieving:

Those things lost and lonely and left undone,

Those ones that ask you to let go before you're ready.

Cleanse yourself both inside and out.

Wash your holy seeing eyes.

It's time to name and claim the holding and healing you need.

And then, to sense more clearly, to know more knowingly.


This is a time when the healing power of letting go is potent and waiting to assist you.

This is a time that calls us to use the cleansing power of sacred tears.

This is a time to deepen into mystery, to journey between worlds while the veil is thin.



If you've been feeling...

...despair or cynicism for the problems and state of the world,
...fatigue, exhaustion, physical or emotional heaviness,
...deep questioning about yourself, your life, your choices...

You're not alone.

Not only are these feelings natural, they're especially present at this time of year.

What isn't natural is the way we try to tamp down or gloss over the necessary questions and yearnings, or how we usually expect ourselves to muscle through and pretend everything is light where it is not.

No, it's necessary to move into the shadows, to do the work in unseen realms.

There's a particular kind of comfort that we can only find in the dark.

And so, I welcome you deeper in.


I went to the woods to gather some medicine for you.

Beyond the hum of electricity, where the only running water was the creek outside the door.

Each day I woke with the raven call and spent my days among cedar and fir, mushrooms and fallen leaves, listening long and deep.

Each night, I built a fire to ward off the autumn chill and companion me into the dark.

And I returned, pockets full of birch bark and tears, apples and undulations, pitch black silence and fire crackle.

And songs.

Healing songs to carry us through, you and I.

{Into the Dark} is a uniquely crafted immersive experience, a seasonal portal, a guided, self-paced retreat to help you harness the healing of this potent season.

With meditations and reflections, and story-songs sung to you next to the wood stove crackling, I guide you as we deepen into mystery in four parts:

  • One: Into the Watery West: To grieve what needs grieving
  • Two: The Fruit and the Fall: To shed what needs shedding
  • Three: Seeing through Shadows: To heal our haunts
  • Four: The Descent: To be reshaped in the womb-tomb



The woods knows all about the dark.

She knows that all falls and fades.

She knows the mystery of whisper and bone.

And so I listen for the raven's call.

I bend low to hear the moss tell her stories of mist and hollows.

I praise the lichen. I kneel to kiss the ground.

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With you,
xo Liv