a grief ritual for our corner
This is a ritual I collected for our grief over what we called “the corner” on our property after the grove of trees there was cut down. Here’s that story.
This was written for four speakers because there are four of us in our family, but you could easily adjust it for more or less.
Centering
Speaker 1: Creator of the forest, we gather today with heavy hearts to honor these fallen trees and this spot that we loved in particular. May our words and actions reflect our deep gratitude for the trees that were cut down today and will be cut down in the days ahead. May this loss enliven our commitment to preserving and protecting the remaining forests of our world. Let us be mindful of the interconnectedness of all life as we pay tribute to these friends, this corner, and all of the more-than-human beings that were affected today.
Readings
Speaker 2: “This is not our world with trees in it. It’s a world of trees, where humans have just arrived…People aren’t the apex species they think they are. Other creatures-bigger, smaller, slower, faster, older, younger, more powerful-call the shots, make the air, and eat sunlight. Without them, nothing……You and the tree in your backyard come from a common ancestor. A billion and a half years ago, the two of you parted ways. But even now, after an immense journey in separate directions, that tree and you still share a quarter of your genes…”
― Richard Powers, The Overstory
All: Help us to remember how interconnected with the trees we are and that today’s loss is a loss for us, as well as all of creation. We are right to be sad and grieving.
Speaker 3: “We can continue pushing our earth out of balance, with greenhouse gasses accelerating each year, or we can regain balance by acknowledging that if we harm one species, one forest, one lake, this ripples through the entire complex web. Mistreatment of one species is mistreatment of all. The rest of the planet has been waiting patiently for us to figure that out. Making this transformation requires that humans reconnect with nature — the forests, the prairie, the oceans — instead of treating everything and everyone as objects for exploitation.” ― Suzanne Simard, The Mother Tree
“When we tell them that the tree is not a who but an it, we make that maple an object; we put a barrier between us, absolving ourselves of moral responsibility and opening the door to exploitation… If a maple is an it, we can take up the chain saw. If a maple is a her, we think twice.” — Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass
All: Help this loss to remind us to treat all beings as worthy and beloved by the Creator.
Speaker 4: A Requiem for Trees by Marianne Griebler:
I performed a simple ritual for this tree that I’ve started doing for all the dead trees I see. I put my hands on its bark. I felt the rough texture under my skin. I looked up into the canopy, denuded of leaves, but still breathtaking in its shape and structure. I imagined it over a hundred years ago as a sapling, long before the street and its homes even existed. I haven’t attended Mass in years, but I blessed it with the sign of the cross, a comforting remnant from my Catholic childhood. Making the strokes with my thumb is my way of saying: your life mattered. Your contributions were generous. You will be missed. And during absolute heartbreak, I celebrated a moment of exquisite pain: I am still alive. I can make a difference in the name of this tree. I must.
Psychotherapist Miriam Greenspan writes eloquently about the despair that comes from living on a planet seemingly in its death throes. Part of our response to our grief is to name it, honor it, and learn to live in its shadow; part of our response must be to find some small measure of healing through action. In her book Healing through the Dark Emotions, Ms. Greenspan reminds us of the potential of sorrow to change us for the better: “Grief has a tremendous power. When we submerge it in avoidance, we can’t use it for spiritual growth. Allow grief’s power to propel you.”
Practice: Walk around to trees
Find a way that works for you to honor the fallen trees. The sign of the cross like the reading. A hand, a prayer, asking what they have to teach us, thanking them for their shade and leaves and lives. Whatever works for you. Allow grief’s power to propel you in whatever ways feel right.
[Give everyone several minutes on their own]
Bring everyone back together for concluding blessings.
All: May all I say and all I think
be in harmony with thee,
God within me,
God beyond me,
maker of the trees.
Chinook prayer
