A Gentle Holding for Grief in Central Texas

There are moments when nature moves with a force that leaves us stunned.

When lives - especially the lives of children - are taken without warning, something shifts in the air around us. The collective field quiets in the stillness of shock, as if holding its breath. And in that stillness, a deep ache emerges - one that goes beyond words.

The flooding in Central Texas brought that kind of moment. The day unfolded in a way no one expected. For the children at camp, their families, and the surrounding community, the impact is immeasurable. Even for those not directly involved, the weight of it can be felt - like a heaviness in the chest or a sudden quiet in the mind. The grief is not just personal; it’s present in the field we all share.

Even if you weren’t physically present, your body may still be feeling the aftershocks of this event. Those of us with sensitive systems often process more than just our personal experience - we respond to the collective field. This isn’t a burden or something to fix. It’s a sign of how connected we are. And it’s a reminder to care for yourself gently in the midst of it.

If you’re feeling exhausted, disoriented, tearful, or heavy: pause.
Breathe.
Place your hands on your heart and on your belly.
Let your body know it’s safe to breathe.

Whenever possible, place your bare feet directly on the earth.
Let the steadiness of the ground meet you.
Let the innate current of life help you discharge what isn’t yours to carry.
The Earth knows how to hold grief, too.

Shock reverberates through our nervous systems. The body doesn’t always need an explanation - it needs permission to settle. The most powerful thing we can do is return to presence - not to override what we feel, but to allow it to move through in safety and rhythm.

This is a time for slowness.
For deep listening.
For allowing grief to have its natural rhythm.

There is no spiritual lesson that must be extracted here.
There is only the sacredness of being with what is.

In our most coherent moments, we can honor the full range of human experience - not just the light, but the loss.

If today you are weeping, honoring, holding, or simply remembering to breathe, that is enough.
That, too, is part of Earth’s recalibration. Through presence.

We remain here together, hearts open, feet on the ground, breathing together, allowing what is real to move through with gentleness.

The heart of this moment asks for more than words.
It asks us to listen.
To slow down.
To feel what is awakened, within us, between us, and throughout the shared field.

A prayer follows, offered in love, for all who are touched by this moment.

Invocation for Peace in the Wake of Loss

Beloved Presence,
Source of all that breathes and all that rests,
we call upon the stillness that lives beneath sorrow.
We call upon the Peace that passes all understanding.

Let your calm rise now,
like a golden mist around the hearts that break.
Wrap the grieving in the softest light.
Cradle all beings who are seeking comfort in the arms of the Infinite.

We honor the lives lost, and the love that remains.
We honor the families held in the ache of the unthinkable.

May every breath become a gentle wave of peace.
May the Earth begin to soothe.
May the land absorb our prayers.

We ask that all shock be softened.
We ask that every heart be comforted.
We ask that the fabric of this field be rewoven in grace.

And we vow,
as vessels of Love,
to walk with tenderness in a world that sometimes wounds.

Peace before us.
Peace behind us.
Peace beside us.
Peace within us.

So it is.
So we breathe.
So we remember.

With love,

Alyssa