Meeting Grief with WhaleBreathing: A Sacred Pathway to Healing
On May 17th, we held my mother's Celebration of Life. That same day also marked 22 years since the loss of my daughter, Catherine Rose. The week leading up to it was heavy with emotion. I was preparing to speak at my mother's service while also quietly holding the personal weight of Catherine's memory.
During that time, I found myself turning more deeply toward my breath. I practiced WhaleBreathing often—circular, diaphragmatic breaths that helped anchor me in the midst of so much feeling. I also gave myself space to simply be, to feel the grief without rushing past it. What I'm learning, more deeply than ever, is that grief is organic. It moves in its own time. And when I slow down and listen through the breath, I discover that it moves when my heart is ready.
WhaleBreathing: A Conscious Companion in Grief
Grief arrives like a wave—uninvited, often overwhelming, and capable of reshaping the very shores of our lives. Whether it's the loss of a loved one, a relationship, a dream, or even the innocence of a former time, grief asks us to pause, feel, and find a new rhythm.
WhaleBreathing offers a sacred, heart-centered way to return to ourselves in those quiet spaces of sorrow.
More than a breathing technique, WhaleBreathing is a practice rooted in presence and reverence. Inspired by whales' slow, rhythmic breath cycles, it invites us to expand the breath into the belly, release fully, and move seamlessly into the next breath without effort or interruption. Just as whales surface for a full, expansive breath before diving deep again, we, too, can meet the depths of our grief with grounded awareness and compassion.
Why Breath Matters in Grief
When grief takes hold, our nervous system often contracts, our breath shortens, and our bodies tighten. We may feel untethered—disconnected from ourselves and the world around us.
WhaleBreathing gently guides us back into safety and spaciousness. Circular, diaphragmatic breathing—where the inhale flows naturally into the exhale with no sharp pauses—soothes the nervous system and invites the body to feel held. As we breathe like the whale, we allow the frozen edges of grief to soften and begin to move.
The Sacred Pause
One of the most profound gifts of WhaleBreathing is not a forced stop but the natural stillness that arises at the end of a full exhale. In our grief, we often search for meaning, comfort, or resolution. But true healing happens in the pause—in the holy stillness where nothing needs to be done.
The pause is where Spirit meets us, where we are held. In WhaleBreathing, the pause is sacred ground—an invitation to simply be with what is.
Breath as Bridge
Grief often feels like separation—from loved ones, ourselves, and the Divine. WhaleBreathing becomes a bridge, reconnecting us to wholeness. Each inhale becomes a gesture of receiving love and life again. Each exhale is a release, a surrender of what we can no longer carry alone. In this circular rhythm, we feel accompanied—not just by our presence but by something greater.
An Invitation to Breathe with Grief
WhaleBreathing doesn't seek to take grief away. It honors it. It holds space for mourning in all its rawness and mystery. It teaches us that our sorrow contains the potential for more profound peace, insight, and compassion. It reminds us that we are not alone. Like the whale, we will rise again.
If you are grieving, I invite you to try WhaleBreathing:
Find a quiet space. Close your eyes.
Inhale gently through your nose into your belly.
Let the breath flow out naturally and fully.
No holding. No forcing. Just a soft, continuous rhythm.
Let the inhale melt into the exhale, and the exhale into the next inhale.
Let it be slow. Let it be kind.
Let the breath hold you. Let it carry you through.
You are not broken. You are becoming. Your breath is your faithful companion on this sacred journey.
A WhaleBreathing Practice for Grief
Before beginning, you may want to light a candle, wrap yourself in something soft, or create a sacred space. Allow yourself 10–15 minutes, or as long as it feels right.
Settle in. Find a comfortable position, either seated or lying down. Let your hands rest gently over your heart, belly, or palms open beside you. Close your eyes or soften your gaze. Allow yourself to arrive just as you are. There is nothing to fix here—only space to feel.
Begin to notice your breath. Start by simply observing your natural breath. Is it shallow or deep? Quick or slow? No judgment. Just awareness. Let each breath be a gentle welcome.
Shift into diaphragmatic circular breathing. Now gently begin WhaleBreathing:
Inhale slowly through your nose into your belly—feel it rise.
Let the exhale flow out through your nose or mouth without pausing—long, slow, and complete.
Let the end of the exhale melt into the next inhale.
Allow the breath to move in a smooth, circular, seamless, continuous flow.
There's no need to control the breath. Let it lengthen naturally, like the ocean's tide.
Let the feelings rise. As you breathe, invite your heart to speak. What is ready to be felt? Is it sadness? Stillness? Longing? Let it come, wave by wave. Breathe, witness, allow.
Use the exhale to release. With each breath out, allow a soft release. You might whisper gently: “I release… I allow… I surrender…" Or simply sigh. The sigh is the soul's exhale. Trust it.
Rest in sacred stillness. At the bottom of the exhale, feel the peace. This pause isn't a holding—it's a landing. Let yourself be still. Let yourself be held. This is where grief can become grace.
Closing the practice. Return to your natural breath. Place one hand on your heart, one on your belly. Whisper gently: "I am here. I am breathing. I am healing." Or offer your own words of truth.
When you're ready, open your eyes. Move slowly. Carry this breath with you.