Thoughts on Grief
A Meditation by Rev. Cameron Trimble
“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”— Psalm 73:26
Lately, nearly every conversation I have carries the same undertone. Beneath the updates, the strategizing, the small talk about work and weather, there is grief. We grieve the accelerating harm to the planet. We grieve how power is being used to wound rather than protect. We grieve the widening gulf between those who have more than they need and those who cannot catch a break. And we grieve even as we keep showing up, bearing witness, tending what we can, trying to love honestly in a world that feels increasingly unstable.
This grief is not a sign that something is wrong with us. It is a sign that we are paying attention.
Grief is not a problem to be solved. It is a relational process to be metabolized, to be integrated into the body of our awareness and action without letting it paralyze us or take us hostage. When grief is unacknowledged, it hardens into cynicism, spills into rage or deadens into despair. When it is honored and worked with, it becomes a source of clarity and connection. There is a way of moving with grief that does not demand resolution, but does invite transformation.
The first movement is to name grief as sacred data. What we are witnessing—the unraveling of norms, the tightening braid of authoritarianism, the exhaustion of ecological and moral systems—is real. The grief that rises in response is not weakness or oversensitivity. It is an honest signal from our entanglement with the world. In cultures that know how to survive collapse, grief is understood as a form of knowledge. It tells us where we are connected, where we care, and where something precious is being harmed or lost. Before we rush to numb it or convert it into immediate action, we need to let it speak. Grief carries information.
The second movement is to shift from urgency to “rhythmic presence.” Urgency is seductive, especially in moments of crisis, but it is also a product of the same system that is burning us out. It wants us frantic, reactive, and isolated. Spiritual leadership—whether we claim that title or not—does not emerge from urgency. It emerges from grounded presence. From people who know how to slow their breathing, return to their bodies, and create small, resilient spaces where a different way of being is practiced. This is not withdrawal; It is repair. It rebuilds the nutrients of trust, attention, and relationship that our culture has been consuming faster than it can replenish.
The third movement is compost-mindedness.1 From an Earth-aligned perspective, decay is not an end; it is a transformation. This age of collapse—and the authoritarian harvest that has grown from it—will eventually compost. Our task is not to halt the process by force, but to participate consciously in what is being born from it. That means asking very local, very practical questions: What in my immediate sphere can be nourished by this grief? What relationship needs tending? What small, truthful practice needs protection? When grief moves this way, it stops feeling like dead weight and begins to act like a mycelial network2 —largely unseen, connective, and generative.
The fourth movement is to refuse the false binary of hope and despair. Hope, when it floats above the present moment, can bypass pain and accountability. Despair, when it collapses inward, can convince us that nothing matters.3 Instead, there is another orientation available: fidelity to the pulse of becoming. What is life, right here, right now, asking of you? Sometimes the answer is action. Sometimes it is rest. Sometimes it is witness. Sometimes it is restraint. This is what metabolization looks like: not being driven by emotion, but letting emotion move through us until it clarifies our next faithful step.
And finally, grief must not be held alone. Shared grief is grief that can breathe. Find or create a small circle where the truth of what you see and feel can be spoken without being corrected, fixed, or spiritualized away. In a culture shaped by blame, outrage, and isolation, spaces of honest, non-reactive presence are quietly subversive. They restore the relational field that authoritarian systems depend on eroding. They remind us that we are not alone in our seeing or our sorrow.
So let grief be a guest, not a governor. Let it inform your rhythm rather than dictate your urgency. Let it deepen your relationships instead of shrinking your world.
The work before us is not to outrun grief, but to learn how to carry it wisely—so that what we love remains alive in us, and what is being born still has somewhere to land.
What have you learned by being in relationship with grief? I invite you to share with all of us in the comments.
We are in this together,
Cameron
Reflection Questions
Where is grief showing up most strongly in your body or attention right now, and what might it be telling you about what you care for deeply?
How does urgency shape your responses to the world—and what would it feel like to replace urgency with a steadier rhythm of presence?
What small relationship, practice, or truth in your immediate sphere is asking for protection or nourishment in this season?
A Prayer for the Day
A Prayer for Carrying Grief Wisely
God of life, You see the weight we are carrying— the grief we cannot file away, the sorrow that comes from loving a wounded world. Teach us not to fear this grief or rush past it, but to listen for the truth it carries. Help us stay present when the pain is real, grounded when the moment feels unstable, and connected when isolation tempts us. Give us courage that is steady, attention that is faithful, and love that does not collapse under pressure. May what aches in us become a source of wisdom, and may what we tend together become a seed of repair. Amen.
Spiritual Practice
Practicing Grief as Knowledge
Set aside ten uninterrupted minutes today. Sit or stand in a way that feels supportive to your body.
Place one hand on your chest or belly. Take three slow breaths. Then name—out loud or silently—one grief you are carrying that feels alive right now. Do not analyze it. Do not fix it.
Simply ask: What does this grief know?
Let one word, image, or sensation arise.
Carry that word or image with you through the day as information, not instruction. Notice how it subtly shapes your attention, your choices, or your tenderness toward others.
This is not about resolution. It is about relationship.
Upcoming Events That Might Be of Interest…
February 5, 2026 - Margaret Wheatley and and I are launching a new online course called “Leading with Spirit,” a six-session journey into soul-grounded leadership designed to deepen your trust in guidance, nurture perseverance, and rekindle imaginal wisdom for our fractured world. Take a look at the course outline. We are really excited and hope you can join! Scholarship are available if needed. Learn more here!
February 10, 2026, 12pm ET - My team and I are launching a new experiment we are calling “The Commons.” It’s an online space centered around a Community of Practice, groups of people who share a common concern, set of problems, or passion for a topic, and deepen their knowledge and expertise by interacting on an ongoing basis. I will be leading a book study on Brian McLaren’s book, Life After Doom. Register here for the onboarding call and to learn more.
February 11th and 25, 2026 - Join Our “Building a Culture of Leadership Within Congregations” Cohort facilitated by Rabbi Benjamin Ross and me! A two-session course for ministers and faith leaders ready to strengthen how their congregations and ministries identify, develop, and support leaders. Learn more here.
March 17, 23, 31 and April 7, 2026 - Mark your calendars! Matthew Fox and I will be hosting another 4-part series on “Visions for the Common Good.” We are finalizing details now, and the registration page will open soon.
July 19-24, 2026 - Join me on retreat in the back-country of beautiful Wyoming. The Art of Wilding is a 5-Day Expedition for Women Leaders. We will spend the week reconnecting to nature, exploring our inner landscapes for change, and engage the wisdom of spiritual teachings. Click here to learn more.
I drafted a Strategic Framework for Congregations as we move into the coming years of increased authoritarianism around the world. If interested, you can download it here.
Fun Things My Friends Are Up To…
I get to work with such amazing, creative people. This section is my way of celebrating them—no paid promotions, just joy in what they’re creating.
The Pachamama Alliance is celebrating 30 years of extraordinary impact. I imagine I will have more to announce about this, but I am particularly appreciating this article on moving from “Me to We.”
Tripp Fuller is hosting a book group on the work of Hartmut Rosa, a German sociologist first introduced to me by Dr. Andrew Root. Rosa’s work gets at the heart of why our culture feels so out of control and why slowing down won’t help. Watch a recording of Tripp and Matthew Segall nerd out about this here.
If you are a leader or member of a congregation looking for consulting support in visioning, planning, hiring or staffing, please consider Convergence.
I have learned so much from the work of Vanessa Machado de Oliveira, the author of Hospicing Modernity and Outgrowing Modernity. I reference her work often here. She is the one who gifted us the language of “composting” and “metabolizing.”
This reference is inspired by the work of Merlin Sheldrake who wrote Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures.
I need to do an entire meditation on the dangers of despair. St. Thomas Aquinas taught that despair is actually the most dangerous of all human feelings (the worst is injustice) because it moves us to not care about ourselves or others.
Sacred care grief knows...
Respond with “rhythmic presence.”
Compost. Life becomes.
This is insightful and beautiful. I have to think that social justice activism is based on grief. We grieve the gap between what is and what can be. We grieve the gap between the unjust systems that churn people's suffering and the vision of the Kingdom of God. Anger is a part of grief, but those on the outside looking in only see the anger. We can try harder to share the grief. Thank you!