Grief

February 5, 2026

As I sat in meditation a few days ago, an image came to me of water pouring out of a woman's heart center and hands. While I don't practice tarot, I recognized the image as The Star card. The Star is associated with healing, hope and a return to wholeness.

In my country, an earthquake has come. In my family, a loss has shifted the ground beneath my feet. It is unsteady, unfamiliar terrain all around me. The grief comes in waves, as grief tends to do. I am not unique in this, I know. So many are experiencing their own significant losses.

I wish I had the right words for this moment. I am not a leader or a mentor; the type of person that could charge in and create powerful change, and inspire others to do the same. I wish I didn't feel helpless and paralyzed with shock and sadness so often these days.

I feel I am cracking open. Collectively, perhaps we are all cracking open. It is painful, scary, and unrepairable. But somehow, I also feel weirdly hopeful. A contradiction for sure, with no proof of any positive changes to come. But it's there. I think of Leonard Cohen's lyrics, "There is a crack, a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in."

I think, also, that's how our light gets out.

I don't wish grief or the pain of loss on anyone. Unfortunately it seems to be part of the human condition. When we get cracked open by life, maybe as Anne Lamott might suggest, we can be the lighthouse. Just be there, shining. Maybe that's a thing we can do, in whatever way that means for you in your circle.

I know my circle has been doing that for me these past few weeks.

I am not a poet, and I'm not a revolutionary. What I am is a mender; a healer. Not in the traditional (Western) sense. People come to me because I listen, and that's a different sort of medicine. People come to me because I can point them toward their own healing. I can't help the whole world, but maybe from my small corner of the planet, I can help one person. I can offer that.

Keep shining in the darkness,

Angelica