By now, you may have seen mention of an upcoming event on our calendar - Between the Sea & Me: A Grief Ritual for Our Coastal Communities. "A grief ritual?" you say. We recognize the concept may sound a bit abstract, confusing even.

This gathering, led by Hogfish arts company, is geared toward those experiencing grief and loss (perhaps anger, fear, dread? emotions you can't put a name to?) due to the evolving climate crisis, offering a communal space for processing these feelings that are often held privately. The first iteration of this event was held this past winter at SPACE Gallery, following the devastating January storms. Members of our community and staff found it to be such a powerful, cathartic experience that we were inspired to invite Hogfish to lead a second iteration designed for the natural setting here at the reserve.

In our calls spent preparing for the event we have spent nearly equal time on logistics as on discussions of the topic itself. What is a grief ritual? Who is this for? What do we mean by climate grief? What do we hope folks take away from this experience? Those discussions have been thoughtful and nuanced and have deepened our connection to each other, while informing the experience we are planning. To help answer some of these (and perhaps your) questions, organizers Matt Cahill and Lucy Dhegrae sat down and shared some of the ideas, inspiration, and intention behind the event in the following video.

They’ve also weighed in below with some thoughts.

Matt Cahill, co-founder of Hogfish and organizer, shares more on the upcoming event.

MC: With Hogfish, and the idea of “regenerative arts” inspired by “regenerative agriculture”, we are constantly asking ourselves, how can the arts like agriculture go beyond sustainable to regenerative, go beyond being the least amount of problem to being part of the solution? And with efforts to help and heal our coastline and our community after the winter storms of 2024, how could the arts be part of that work?

It was at this time that my dear friend and colleague Lucy Dhegrae, who had recently finished her certification in leading grief rituals under Francis Weller, one of the current seminal leaders of grief rituals in the United States, asked if my husband Edwin and I would like to join her for a small grief ritual. We had no idea what to expect, and to be honest were a little trepidatious.

Ritual sounds fancy and like there will be robes and chanting, and grief like something that I keep to myself. But trusting Lucy and wanting to support her work, we went. And we were transformed - not in a sudden conversion or smack in the face sort of way, but kind of like fingers thawing out when you come in from the cold and sit in front of a fire or put your hands around a mug of something warm to drink.

I learned that the ritual part, was not fancy at all, but really just about doing what we were doing with love and intention. And bringing that love and intention to sharing grief that I had and witnessing and supporting that of others, was like a hot bowl of soup for a hunger I didn’t know I had. It took me a few days to process it all, but I felt lighter, more grateful and connected and full of hope than I had been in a long time.

So I thought, maybe we can bring this work to the Maine Coast community. There is so much grief around climate change in general, and the damage caused by these storms in particular, that maybe a grief ritual would help our community too, to find a way back to hope and connection and gratitude amidst all that has been lost. We were not sure if this was a crazy idea or if anyone would be interested. We announced the event and within three days all the 75 spots were taken. After the ritual, we received several testimonies of deep gratitude, hope found, and connection regained.

Several people also expressed hope that we would do this again - like planting seeds in the garden, they wanted these new seeds of grief tended and gratitude found to be tended in community over time, to let them grow, and see what bears fruit. When Wells Nature Reserve reached out with interest in continuing the series, it seemed like a natural fit with their combination of ecology and grief work. We look forward to presenting this second iteration of this secular but sacred community work, this time with access to the beautiful scenery at the Wells Reserve and a chance to work on the coast itself. We hope the community will continue to find this work rewarding, and that for newcomers, it is a chance to plant the first seeds of comfort with grief in community, and see how that can bring so much joy to our lives, and for returners, we hope this is a chance to build upon their work from last time, to continue composting the soil of their hearts, and bear the fruits of their labor.

Lucy Dhegrae, co-organizer and ritual leader adds her thoughts.

LD: The beauty of a grief ritual is that we learn how to hold each other and our own grief simultaneously. For most of us, grief is such a private act. We avoid it for as long as we can, and then when we let it in, it feels bottomless. Part of what we will do in the grief ritual is to plant our feet together while we all drop into our grief. The connection to the earth and to each other is what keeps it from feeling like an endless pit. Grief builds up in the body and becomes this solid, rock-like formation. I think we all know the feeling of grief making us feel stiff, stuck, and unable to participate in this beautiful life. This ritual helps to move out that stiffness, to warm and knead the grief so that we can be more supple, more responsive, and to live more fully in our everyday lives.

Tickets are available on a sliding scale basis: $10-50 here.

This event is made possible by a generous grant from the Onion Foundation.

UPDATE: Event postponed to later this winter. Stay tuned for new date!