Grief & Gratitude Circle – Nov. 19

Over the weekend, I became aware through a call with Sarah that my recent announcements of my ‘last’ cacao ceremony and plant medicine retreat stirred up a lot for my community. I guess I hadn’t really thought about everyone’s response, especially since this is still in its formation stage.

“When I first learned that Helen would be offering her final cacao and plant medicine ceremonies, I felt shaken…. and had A LOT of questions for Helen

And I wasn’t alone.

In my little community of people who know and love Helen, there has been a lot of conversation.

Where is Helen going? What’s she doing next? Why won’t she tell us? What’s the big secret?

I’ve been right there with everyone else. Curious. Uncomfortable. Wanting answers.

I want to know what’s happening. I want to know what this means. And perhaps most importantly, I want to know what it means for me.

But as I’ve sat with these conversations and my own discomfort, I’ve begun to recognize something beautiful.

Helen is walking her talk.

She is showing us what feminine leadership can look like. And, damn, it’s uncomfortable.

We live in a culture that tends to value a more masculine approach to leadership. We appreciate clarity, certainty, direction, and a well-articulated plan. We like transitions to be neatly packaged, with a clear ending and an equally clear beginning.

I’m leaving this, and here’s what I’m doing next.

There is comfort in that kind of knowing. We can organize it in our minds, make sense of it, and move on.

But what if we don’t yet know what’s next?

What if the next chapter isn’t something we can plan or announce, but something we have to allow to emerge?

What if we can know that something is complete without knowing what will take its place?

This is what I see Helen modeling.

A willingness to honor what is ending without needing to have the next thing figured out. A trust in the unfolding. A surrender to the mystery of what wants to emerge.

And perhaps even a willingness to let those of us who love her be uncomfortable in that uncertainty.

I don’t have many models of this kind of feminine leadership. Leadership that doesn’t rush to provide answers, reassurance, or certainty. Leadership that trusts the unfolding enough to let it be unfinished.

I find myself both inspired by it and incredibly uncomfortable with it.

And then I discovered something else.

My desire to know what’s next for Helen might actually be my attempt to avoid feeling what’s happening inside me right now.

Because underneath all my curiosity, all my questions, and all my desire for details, there is grief.

Deep, tender grief.

 

I’ve known Helen for two and a half years. In that time, I’ve participated in plant medicine and cacao ceremonies, her Feminine Reclamation program, and ongoing energetic healing sessions. She even helped lead my vow renewal ceremony—a beautiful, full-circle moment in which we honored the very transformation in my marriage that she had been so instrumental in helping create.

 

I can say without hesitation that she has been one of the most influential people in my life.

She has changed my relationship with myself. She has changed my marriage. In many ways, I believe she saved my marriage.

And most importantly, she has lead me home to myself.

She has helped me meet parts of myself I didn’t know existed. She has invited me into a relationship with my own feminine expression, my body, my truth, my desires, and my capacity to receive love.

The transformation has been profound.

And now, as I consider the possibility that I may no longer have access to Helen in the ways I’ve known, I feel scared.

What am I going to do without Helen? Will I be okay? Are there still parts of me that need her help to be discovered, healed, and reclaimed? What if I’m not finished?

Oh, there it is.

The grief.

The fear of losing access to someone who has been so instrumental in my becoming.

And I notice how quickly my mind wants to move away from those feelings and back into the questions.

But where is she going? What will she be doing? Will I still be able to work with her?

As though knowing the answers will somehow make the grief disappear.

As though certainty about the future could protect me from the sadness of the present.

But perhaps there is nothing to figure out right now.

Perhaps there is simply something to feel.

And when I allow myself to feel the sadness, something else comes alongside it.

Profound gratitude.

Thank goodness I met Helen two and a half years ago.

Thank goodness our paths crossed when they did.

Thank goodness I said yes to the ceremonies, the healing, the reclamation, the discomfort, and the expansion.

Thank goodness I have had the opportunity to be loved, witnessed, challenged, and transformed by this extraordinary woman.

What a gift.

And what a heartbreak to imagine that this chapter of our relationship may be coming to an end.

I’m discovering that the gratitude doesn’t erase the grief. And the grief doesn’t diminish the gratitude.

They belong together. There is a sacred sweetness in allowing myself to feel both.

I don’t actually know what Helen’s next chapter will look like. I don’t know what access I’ll have to her, or how our relationship may evolve. And maybe I don’t need to know.

Maybe my work right now isn’t to figure out Helen’s future.

Maybe my work is to honor what she has meant to me, to grieve what is changing, and to trust that what has awakened in me through our work together is mine to carry forward.

Perhaps this is one more teaching from Helen.

An invitation to surrender the need for certainty. To trust the unfolding.

To let an ending be an ending, even before a new beginning reveals itself.

And to allow myself to feel the ache of loving something so deeply that the thought of its changing brings tears.

Helen, I don’t need to know where you’re going just yet.

I want to honor where we’ve been.

I want to feel the sadness of what is changing.

I want to celebrate the extraordinary gift of having been touched by you.

And I want to trust you, and myself, in the mystery of what comes next.

 

In awe, grief and gratitude,

Sarah Wilzbacher “

With this new awareness, I’d like to offer a Gratitude and Grief Ceremony for my community on November 19 at 5:30 PM MT via Zoom.

It will be a place to share your gratitude, growth, expansion, grief, anything you’d like. You’ll be held, witnessed, loved and supported in community. And I will have the honor of receiving your words and messages.

Send me an email and we’ll add you to the list. Closer to the date we’ll send you the Zoom link info.