There is a kind of grief that doesn’t get spoken of much.
It isn’t always the grief that comes with death, though many of us have known that sorrow too. This is a different kind of parting—a quieter, more interior loss. It happens when we begin to outgrow those we’ve loved. When something within shifts, and the old ways of connecting no longer quite fit.
It’s not something we choose. Often, it unfolds slowly. Over time. Through years of surrender, of silence, of tending to the deeper truth within us. And then one day, we realize the landscape has changed. We’ve crossed a threshold. And though the love may still be there ALWAYS, the resonance is gone.
We look around and notice the conversations that once lit us up now feel distant. The people we used to confide in no longer meet us in the same place. Not because they’ve failed us. Not because there’s fault. But because our souls have ripened. And we’ve come to speak a language they may no longer understand. sorrow in that. Deep sorrow. Because we still care. We still bless the road we once walked with them. But now the thread begins to loosen. And what once felt like home becomes something we visit, not something we can live in anymore.
Some friends die. Others fade gently into the past. A few may remain, but the thread between us changes form. From a deep, inward turning that realigns us with a new center, a deeper aspect of truth.
As we walk further into the spiritual life—into the silence, into the sacred—we may find our circles thinning. This is not a sign of failure. It is the soul tuning itself more deeply to the divine. Not everyone is meant to walk that far with us—at least not at this time. Their path, their timing, may be different than ours.
So we grieve. We honor. We release.
We give thanks for the seasons shared—for those who helped carry us to this point. And we trust that, as we continue walking, new companions will appear. People who understand the language of the soul. People who can meet us in the stillness without flinching. People for whom silence is not absence but presence.
And until those companions arrive, we keep walking. Barefoot, open-hearted, letting the grief wash through us like a tide. Letting it shape us. Letting it carve space within us for an even deeper love still to come.
And if these words find a home in another heart—if someone reading this understands the path—we have already found each other.
And that…… is Grace.
If these reflections speak to something true in your own life…
I invite you to sit with them gently. Perhaps light a candle. Breathe. Let your grief be honored. If you feel moved, share a few words in the comments—this is a space for kindred souls to gather quietly and truthfully.
Nigel Lott teaandzen.org
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