The Sacred Voltage of Grief

Grief is a force of nature. It moves like a current, an emotional voltage running through the body. It’s raw, relentless, and untamed—a live wire that shocks us awake in the moments we least expect.

We often see grief as the enemy, a dark wave that drags us under when life rips something away—death, heartbreak, failure, loss of any kind. But grief isn’t here to punish us. It’s here to set us free.

The key to working with grief is understanding it. To understand it, we have to go deep.

Love is in everything. Even in grief.

Love is massive—it’s the entire frequency spectrum. Love is no one emotion it is the COMPLETION OF ALL 103 HUMAN EMOTIONS! It needed to divide itself into different emotional currents so we could fully experience it in human form. That’s where our 103 emotions come in. Each one carries a lesson, a code, a message meant to bring us closer to full remembrance—back to love in its purest form.

The path to enlightenment isn’t about escaping emotions. It’s about feeling every single one and integrating them. No bypassing. No numbing out. Full presence.

At the end of the Bible, Christ’s final words were: Teteleste “It is accomplished.”

He had felt it all. (Side note: I read the Bible as astrotheology—an allegory for human awakening, not a religious text.)

We are here to do the same.

Grief is one of the strongest emotional voltages we can experience. It has the power to turn us into heroes or keep us as prisoners.

Grief is deeply tied to our inner feminine energy—our magnetic, feeling, intuitive self. It lives in the body, specifically in the lungs and rib cage.

The first trauma we ever experience is separation. Birth is our first exile—from the womb, from oneness, from the source of unconditional safety. The first place we go after birth is right to the lungs and rib cage, resting against our mother’s chest. This is where we first learn what safety and belonging feel like. It’s the foundation of our emotional body.

When that sense of safety is disrupted, when we lose something or someone, that primal grief resurfaces.

This is why when we cry, we heave. It’s why heartbreak physically aches in the chest. It’s why deep sadness makes us feel like we can’t breathe. Grief is an electric surge through the lungs—a charge sent by the inner feminine.

At its core, grief has one purpose.

Every emotion has a function.

• Anger protects boundaries.

• Fear sharpens awareness.

• Grief releases possession.

Grief comes when we try to hold onto something that was never ours to begin with.

Before humans fell into attachment, we lived in direct communion with life. We were in flow, in rhythm with the ever-moving, ever-changing nature of reality.

Then, we created meaning—and with meaning came possession.

We started believing that things, people, and experiences belonged to us. And when they left, we suffered.

Grief breaks those chains.

When grief arrives, we resist. We tighten our grip, trying to control, to keep, to make sense of what’s slipping away.

But grief whispers back:

Other people will outgrow me.

I will outgrow other people.

It’s okay. Let go.

It asks us about our capacity to receive the new, to become new, to release what is safe and familiar in order to evolve.

Familiarity, when clung to, becomes possession. Possession is a betrayal of our true nature. Nothing is truly ours—not people, not things, not even time.

Grief has two paths. The first is the victim’s path—resistance, suffering, looping pain. The second is the hero’s path—acceptance, surrender, alchemy.

Possession makes us prisoners. Grief, when embraced, makes us free.

The moment we stop resisting grief, we reclaim our power. The hero wakes up.

The hero is the part of us that trusts the unknown. That walks forward, even when the ground is crumbling beneath us. That feels everything fully and comes out the other side, reborn.

Grief doesn’t come to destroy us. It comes to make space.

For what’s next. For what’s true. For what’s waiting to arrive.

Let it move. Let it breathe. Let it do what it came here to do.

And when the wave passes, step forward.

Something new is calling your name.

That’s how we turn grief into gold.

That’s how we set ourselves free.