Grappling with painful, raw emotions at The Grief Space in England
Christine Fieldhouse talked to three guests on a Grief Alchemy retreat, where they discovered the power of ancient rituals, soul-soothing music and a lighter way of living
Grief Alchemy is a life-shifting process based on grief in all its forms. In the care of psychologist and coach Nici Harrison and her team, guests immerse themselves in group workshops, embodiment practices and therapy to feel their pain, bring about change and build a new relationship with grief.
To find out what the retreat was like, we spoke to three participants: Sally, a 44-year-old coach from Wales, who lost her brother to suicide, and her sister to alcoholic liver disease; Rosie, a 35-year-old chartered accountant, from south-west London, whose dad died in December 2022 after suffering a cardiac arrest; and Kate, 44, a coach from west London, whose mum died of pancreatic cancer in March 2023.
All names have been changed to protect the interviewees’ identities.
Read on for their stories.
“I discovered that grief and love are like the wings of a bird – you can’t have one without the other, painful as grief is. When I left the retreat, I was a different person. I can’t pinpoint exactly what changed in me, but I feel lighter, and I no longer see life as dark, unfair and cruel”
SALLY’S STORY:
‘Ten years ago, I lost my 43-year-old brother to suicide, and a week later, my sister, who was 41, died of alcoholic liver disease. Because they died so close to each other, I felt as if I didn’t get to honour them both equally. In a blur, we had my brother’s funeral, but two weeks later, and exhausted, we had a quiet funeral for my sister.
I’d been working with Nici, doing her online workshops, for about a year when I heard about her retreat. Nine years on, my grief didn’t feel as raw, but I’d still struggled with my own self-worth, as well as feelings of guilt, loneliness and isolation.
Although I have support through my work as a coach, I wanted that sense of community and support, particularly in person, as so much had been online.
When I arrived at the retreat, it was quiet, homely and welcoming - there was a sense of nervousness, yet I was excited about what was going to happen.
There were 11 of us on retreat altogether – ten women and one man, ranging from our twenties to our sixties. I shared a room in the main house – we had the most amazing bathtub!
Our days fell into a pattern. The food was delicious because we had an on-site chef and after breakfast, we had time to walk round the grounds before a morning workshop in the barn. We had circle time to share, and Nici would hold a ceremony, or we would do a ritual.
After lunch, we’d have some quiet time for journaling or walking alone before yoga, breathwork or trauma release exercises. One breathwork session took place out on the hills. Roni, the practitioner, was singing as we lay on the ground, feeling held by the earth and so safe. Equally, the trauma release work was very powerful – the tension just ebbed away from me.
Our evenings were relaxed; we sat together and chatted. One night, we came together round a fire and drank tea as we sat looking up at the stars. Other evenings, we’d meet in the barn and Nici would read poetry, or we practised breathwork to gentle live music.
I went to the retreat quite far on in my grief journey, but I learned to grieve for myself, to open up my heart and be kinder to myself. It was a transformation experience that has stayed with me. When I got home, my partner said my face looked brighter and lighter. The retreat had softened me. It taught me to be more present, calmer, and gentler. It didn’t take grief away, but it taught me to lean into my grief so I could feel it more.’
ROSIE’S STORY:
‘I lost my mum to cancer when I was 17, and then, in December 2022, my dad, who’d been perfectly healthy and played tennis regularly, suffered a cardiac arrest. He spent two weeks in ICU and died on Christmas Day. He was 59.
I’d never really dealt with my grief after my mum died. My dad had been keen to get me back into routine and back to school so my grief stayed with me. After my dad died, I had even more grief, compounded by shock.
A friend of a friend told me about Nici Harrison’s work and when I saw she had a retreat in Glastonbury, I knew instantly I wanted to go on it. We both booked and Nici put us in a shared room in a cottage. I went with no expectations – just an open mind, which I now think is key.
When Nici told us about the processes we’d be doing, I felt so uncomfortable. We were going to be opening ourselves up and making ourselves very vulnerable. I remember thinking: ‘Oh my God, I can’t do that.’
But Nici has an aura about her. She’s warm and she listens without judgement. In sharing sessions, I felt I had verbal diarrhoea, but it was clear she was listening and taking it all in.
For me, the most profound experience was a Celtic ritual, where we lay a memento of our loved one at an altar, then let our emotions out. I took a photo of me as a child with my parents; others took an item of clothing like a scarf. In an incredible rush of emotions, people screamed and shouted and cried. Bodies were shaking and there was such animalistic howling. It was so powerful.
In another ritual, we were given a sheet of paper to write about our grief. I wrote down that I was grieving for the life I should be having with my parents, then we took the paper, dropped it in the water by the altar and the water was given to the earth by a beautiful tree. We all felt our pain was being held by nature.
I discovered that grief and love are like the wings of a bird – you can’t have one without the other, painful as grief is. When I left the retreat, I was a different person. I can’t pinpoint exactly what changed in me, but I feel lighter, and I no longer see life as dark, unfair and cruel.’
KATE’S STORY:
‘I discovered Nici online quite soon after losing my mum in March 2023. My dad had died of a heart attack when I was 19, but we thought Mum was healthy. She’d had a routine blood test, which led to more tests and we found she had pancreatic cancer. She died very soon after. Then, within a few months, we lost four of Mum’s siblings. Bereft, I joined Nici’s four-week Motherless Daughters online group.
I have two young children and I didn’t want to lay my grief on their shoulders. They’d say: ‘Mummy is very sad.’ I’d tell them: ‘It’s not going to last. I will be okay.’ But when I saw Nici had a five-day retreat, when I wouldn’t have to wear my mask and hide my emotions, I signed up.
I was still in the phase of suddenly bursting into tears, when memories come, or things catch you quite unexpectedly, and I cried a lot on the way up there.
I wasn’t staying on-site – I was in a lovely glamping pod, a few minutes’ walk from the retreat base, along with two other guests. Based in the orchard, surrounded by sheep, we had comfy beds and indoor showers. To begin with, everyone looked quite shy, but as we opened up in circle time, listened to Nici’s wonderful poetry and took part in activities, we bonded.
We all felt nourished by the food. I had porridge for breakfast, and I remember a lovely vegan satay curry. We snacked on homemade Bounty bars and smoothies.
I loved the breathwork, overlooking Glastonbury Tor, and the gentle trauma-release exercises, but for me one of the highlights was Roni’s singing. She’s a trained opera singer and it was like she was singing to my soul. Listening to her, we were all at perfect peace.
They say it takes a village to heal grief, and the people on this retreat were my village. When I remember our rituals, it gives me the shivers, even now. We shared such heartfelt crying and pure sorrow, without any embarrassment.
In the evenings, we passed round a crystal egg and took our turns to talk – it felt a good way to end the day.
The retreat was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. It left me feeling lighter and I even released grief from losing my dad. I listened to Nici’s playlist all the way home and now, even my husband sings her songs! I no longer fear death as I once did. I accept that life loves me, and I can trust in life.’
This retreat took place in Somerset. The Grief Space now runs in Cornwall.