A teacher named Kulu explains that joy is the only human emotion.

Yes, we experience grief, he adds, and we know that grief includes feelings of anger and sorrow.

“What about fear?”, we asked. Fear is just anticipated grief, he said, so again grief encompasses fearful feelings as well.

How can joy possibly the sole emotion when there is clearly so much grief in and around us?

It is the authentic feeling and expression of grief brings us to an openness to love that is joy.

So, it’s all joy.

What do you think of that?

This perspective has been helpful to me since I heard Kulu speak about two decades ago. When feeling fear or nervousness, I ask myself what I might be afraid of losing. In other words, what grief might I be anticipating? That question helps bring me back to the present moment where right action is available.

In the weeks since my father’s death on August 12 of this year, I have often found solace in remembering Kulu’s teaching on joy — including grief– as the all-encompassing emotion. I’m a little bit more open to allowing myself to feel whatever I feel when I feel it, and practice finding heathy ways to express the feelings that bubble up.

Is this really joyful?, I ask myself. How might it be? Usually, missing my dad just hurts my heart, but if I let the tears flow I do feel something that could be categorized as joy.

It’s hard to explain. Have you experienced this too?

Grief seems to sneak up on me. Seeing his eyeglasses, noticing the rhubarb in the freezer ready for his special sauce that he wasn’t able to make again, returning the new white cotton undershirts that he never got to wear, seeing his handwritten book lists and hearing his voice in saved message on my phone pull directly at my heart. I suppose that is a natural response, and that the intensity will lessen with time, but part of me is grateful for the reminders of him that in an instant can turn on the waterworks. Like right now, typing this list of what reminds me of the loss of his presence.

Shortly after he died, I walked into my neighborhood co-op and was inspired to but a special beeswax candle. At the end of the day, I often light this candle in honor of him and our connection, and this seems to soften the loss.

How do your creative practices support you during times of loss?

I’ve been leaning into time tested routines like morning pages and long walks as well as finding new rituals like the evening candle that I find comforting. Below I summarize what I’ve found supportive, and maybe you’ll find it helpful, too.

3 ways creative practice can bring us solace:

Loss and love are part of the human experience. Whether the loss is little or large, your intuition and creative sensibilities are right there to offer you support. A fresh idea for a solution, or a nudge toward a comforting action can move the heart gently forward.

You are qualified to realize and release your emotional truth.
After years of daily practice writing morning pages, I have learned to rely on my notebook as a safe landing pad. Spilling the my unedited words and tears onto the page moves the feelings through my system and I arrive in new territory to start the day. Write for you.

However you mourn and grieve is however you mourn and grieve.
Making time and space in your calendar for whatever your spirit needs is a creative act. Where is that place for you? What activity honors your soul? Making a pot of soup, taking a nap, poring over old photos, walking among forest trees… whatever nourishes you. Take an artist date.

You know what brings you solace when you experience solace.
Trusting an inkling to call a certain friend is one way to create connection. And when a friend is listening and witnessing you with open heart, you’ll know it by the consoling effect of their compassion. Follow your inspired hunches.

Peace & Creativity

If you’d like to increase connection with your own creativity, please do join us for the fall course: The Artist’s Way w/Amy.