Composting Grief by Rebecca Gilbert
When I come up short of answers to humanity’s problems, I turn for practical advice to our ancestors the plants, and to the wider ecosystems of which we are a part. Plants naturally avoid the species-specific pitfalls resulting from human overthinking, and working with them has gotten me out of many a mental tangle. The physical work involved, the Nature connection, and the beauty of our ecosystems have been helpful, but the most useful model for processing grief that the plants have shown has come from the compost heap, a central player in keeping energies and nutrients moving here on the farm. I have come to respect the way plants cycle through their lives, growing and blooming and then equally enthusiastically relinquishing and deconstructing, thus feeding the next generation of plants. This magical transformation happens mostly through the composting process which is powerful in itself, as well as providing useful metaphors and wise teachings.
When we begin to look at grief and other ‘negative’ emotions from the perspective gained from observation of plants and a close study of the composting process, the potential for healing becomes more tangible. Even the most disgusting parts of ourselves and our lives may, with proper handling, be heading towards fertility, integration of all essential elements, and new growth. In fact, our ability to evolve and adapt individually and as a species may depend upon how effectively we can process difficulties such as grief and put our pain and trauma to use in healing, like wild herbs, or ‘weeds’ growing through a crack in the pavement whose growth and decay widen and enrich the place where they found themselves.
Composting focuses our attention on what we would like to throw away, but as Rachel Carson said in ‘Silent Spring,’ “There is no ‘away.’” Here on the farm, the compost consumes and digests not only weeds from the garden and other dead and dying plants, but manure, the corpses of animals, spoiled or leftover food, and just about anything rotten and gross. These things which we want to get rid of are not exorcised, destroyed, made to vanish or driven out – rather, they are kept close, but changed, gradually over time, by a complex community of organisms that each benefit in their own ways by being part of this slow, invisible, and completely transformational process. The compost and the communities of creatures that make it, like the plants, need to be stirred – they require air, warmth, moisture, and each other, and they need to operate according to their own timelines.
This slow, deep, and permanent transformation of what is rejected and unwanted into the source of future fertility gives us clues about the benefits of facing up to our griefs. The plants demonstrate a graceful and realistic approach to this process. To emerge stronger from the grieving process, we are required to bravely work with what we want to reject. The feelings that cycle through us while grieving run the gamut of emotions we would usually label as negative – guilt, loss, sadness, remorse, anger, and so on. Unless we allow ourselves to truly experience them, we simply postpone the absorption and healing, and the longer we wait, the more difficult it becomes to face the shadow sides of life. If the process is prevented or delayed, everything becomes more difficult to deal with, more toxic. I’m thinking of the way a compost pail left on the counter too long will begin to smell and maybe even breed maggots, or the way an unturned pile of weeds that lacks exposure to air becomes smelly and slimy.
So, how exactly do we go about dealing with our most stinky, difficult, and unwanted emotions?
Again, the plant’s path through the compost heap is my teacher and guide here. A few principles stand out.
Faith: A large part of the grieving process takes place in the underworld of the unconscious, and also on a cellular level within our bodies. As with composting, we recognize that something is happening by the results.
Time: It takes as long as it takes. Don’t let anyone tell you that your grieving should be ready before it’s ripe. While we may take inspiration and tools from each other’s experiences, our own process is unique.
Community: no single being is enough in themselves to create ecosystemic transformation. There may be competition and struggle involved, but in the long run, the most diverse methods and communities have the most success and prove the most resilient and adaptable.
Inclusiveness: it doesn’t work to pick and choose among the energies and processes as they arise. They all need to be incorporated eventually, and that’s part of the glory of this work… there’s a place for everything and nothing real is denied attention. Transformation rather than exclusion is key.
Honesty: curiosity, attention, and willingness to explore and innovate are very helpful. Hanging on to assumptions and to the way things were or the way they ‘ought’ to be are not helpful. This process inherently requires serious levels of change. And don’t we all?
Try this small ritual.
Take a symbol of something you want to transform. It doesn’t have to be fancy. A little sketch or a few words that come from the heart are effective. You may put it on a leaf, or a piece of paper or cloth, or use any kind of biodegradable object as your symbol. Hold it in your hands and think about what you are doing.
What exactly are you wishing to change? Don’t focus on the outcome, but on the willingness to let the process take its own path, and the desire to release the forms of the past and let extreme transformations take place, like a plant that dies and resprouts yearly.
When you are ready, lovingly give your symbol to the forces of decomposition. I will often do this at the time of the full moon, so my object can ‘wane’ for a couple of weeks before beginning to grow into something new. Bury your token in the compost heap if you have one, if not, try to find a place where natural processes are at work, such as under the leaves in a forest or simply in a hole in an untended patch of ground. If you wish to incorporate all the elements, incorporate some ashes or a solar flower such as St. John’s wort, Calendula, or Sunflower into the hole for Fire, stir in Air and/or add some feathers to the mix, and Water the “planted’ object as if it contained the seeds of your new path in life.
Once buried, changes are inevitable but cannot be rushed. Stay aware and notice incremental shifts as they begin to occur. Don’t be concerned if you don’t see anything for a while, but have faith that patterns are altering and adapting, and new things are happening underground. Re-evaluate after a year or so, and you may be surprised at how thoroughly the active Earth can transform us and our understandings.
Next time you are in the presence of grief or any of its unwanted elements, think of the plants and the wisdom they hold about the power of compost to transform rottenness into hope and fertility, and to move us gently and gradually from endings into new growth, and may your heart be soothed and your mind inspired. Blessed be.
Rebecca Randall Gilbert and her husband run the Native Earth Teaching farm “located on a glacial moraine on a watershed between the north and south shores of Martha’s Vineyard, Wampanoag land. ..There (they) raise animals and plants to their heart’s content, and Rebecca teaches rural skills and fiber arts to anyone who shows an interest, from toddlers to elders. From community gardens to goat school to bubbling dye pots to herbal potions, there’s always some sort of experiment going on or some kind of project taking root. Famous for their compost, the friendliness of their goats, their delicious local food, and their ornery, old-fashioned ways, these farmers are doing their best to carry forward the skills and joys of the past into a new and different future.”
~Weedy Wisdom, by Rebecca Randall Gilbert, Llewellyn Publications, Woodbury, Minnesota, 2022
To learn more about Rebecca, visit her website, Native Earth Teaching Farm. https://nativeearthteachingfarm.org/
