Good Grief and Other Controlled Burns

To experience the light, sometimes you have to spend time in the dark.

Last Friday that odd Friday where we aren't supposed to clock out of work and tailgate our way into the weekend. When I understood the notion of Good Friday for the first time, all the stories of sacrifice, cross-bearing, and brokenness combined with a certain reverent silence made me feel a mix of deep grief and abiding hope. It's not an easy emotion to reconcile when life is tough, but learning how to do so can be incredibly liberating. In my book, readers are invited on a "Good Friday" kind of journey, a deeply honest exploration of this type of "good" grief: finding healing in suffering; accepting sorrow alongside joy; discovering hope while facing our fears. And along the way there are powerful lessons that apply beyond just Fridays—lessons that will inevitably fuel us forward even in times darkness.

Introducing “Good” Grief as a Healthy Part of Our Lives

Grief is often viewed as a dark cloud that looms over us, threatening to rain down tears and sadness at any moment. But what if I told you that there's such a thing as "good" grief? Yup, you heard me right. Grieving is not bad. We tend to avoid it because it is uncomfortable. Good grief involves acknowledging our emotions and allowing ourselves to feel them. I mean really feel them. I call this process "Controlled Burning," but there are lots of ways you can get to it: a host of therapy and meditation modalities, a good cry, a rage fest with a punching bag, an axe-throwing tournament, or being in a play. I'm a fan of ranting silently in a shower.

Grief often looks like anger. For me, I get angry in a hurry when I feel invisible or ignored -- a lifetime of being bullied will do that to you. But as soon as I realized that this anger is really me grieving my lack of importance in the grand scheme of the universe. And it isn't me grieving: it's my bruised ego that begs to be at the center of everything.

How Good Friday Prompts Us to Grieve

Good Friday is not the liveliest holiday out there. It's somber and a bit dark. But in the midst of all that, it also offers us something so important: the opportunity to grieve, heal and accept our own mortality. In this way, it serves as an invitation to confront the darkness and show up with open arms instead of running away. It's not something that you can do alone, though; it requires a community -- whether yours is made up of friends, family, or even strangers -- to truly move through the depths of grief. I call this process of forming community a "Bonfire Experience" -- creating a space to metabolize our grief through the telling of and careful listening to stories about what matters to us.

When we come together to grieve our losses and failures, we create space to heal and find hope. It's a reminder that we are not alone in our struggles and that it's okay to feel those feelings without having to push them away or ignore them. We don't have to be ashamed of our hurts, but rather accept them as part of the human experience. Good grief gives us the opportunity to do this.

Connecting with Others to Share Perspectives and Build Bonfires

Connecting with others is like building your own little community. It's like a cozy little neighborhood where you can all sit on your front porch, sipping sweet tea and swapping stories. Except instead of just your neighbors, it's people from all walks of life, from all over the world. It's a beautiful thing, really. You get to hear different perspectives on everything from politics to pop culture, from relationships to religion. And the best part? You get to share your own thoughts and views, too. It's a give and take, a beautiful dance of communication and mutual understanding.

In this way, connecting with others serves as a bridge to building bonfires -- gatherings of like-minded people who come together to hear and share stories. They're inspiring spaces that help us process our grief, expanding our ability to cope with it in healthy ways. Bonfire experiences create trust and safety, allowing us to confront our fears without judgment and come away feeling transformed.

The idea that grief can be a positive experience may seem strange at first, but it is possible. By talking about our stories and sharing perspectives, we create community and connection, which in turn helps us heal from the difficult times we face. We can use good grief to remind ourselves that there are still things to be grateful for, even in the darkest of times. So let us all take a moment to pause and reflect on this very strange Friday, to remember the joys and sorrows that come with life, and use them both as opportunities to connect with one another and ourselves.

Creating Good Grief

Good grief doesn't come naturally to most of us. When we're experiencing overwhelming grief, anger, or those all-to-familiar fight-or-flight responses, we have to manufacture our own way out. We have to build the fire that will consume all the noise and junk. Buddhism suggests that when we encounter something like this, we apply an "antidote" by "cultivating" the opposite. We can design our way out of bad grief and convert it to good. How do we do this? We use the grief as fuel for something else: generative, creative, other-oriented. I started a theatre company that's run for over a decade as a direct reaction to a lot of grief I was experiencing at the time. Your antidote does not need to be this huge. But it does need to be a big enough thing to really and truly metabolize your grief -- to convert it to good.

Start small and familiar. You know, like that first sip of hot coffee on a cold morning, or the feeling of sun on your skin after a long winter. Take a walk.

Good grief isn’t always easy, but it often can (at least eventually!) lead to transformation and brighter days. As we continue this story on our own journeys, I challenge all of us to reflect on how we can find solace in our emotions—without judgement—and to practice sharing our honest answers with those around us. Ultimately, “good” grief is more than just something that happens to us somewhere along the way; it’s part of creating bigger stories with richer characters who are brave enough to take risks and embrace life with an open heart. What are your examples of good grief? Share your thoughts in the comments below.