Grief, Nature, and the Healing Power of Water

What the Ocean Taught me about Grief

There are places where I feel most present in my body. For me, one of those places is the ocean.

Standing on my paddleboard, something shifts inside of me. I am ever amazed by the multitude of shades of blue from ocean meeting sky. The pace of the world seems to slow down. I begin to notice the movement of the water, the sounds of the ocean, the breeze and the sun on my skin. I start to breathe differently. I listen. I become aware of the environment around me.

I am surrounded by life. I may notice a porpoise surface in the distance, and glide effortlessly through the water before disappearing. An eagle soaring above may grab my attention as it rides the currents of air in its own form of surfing. There are seals, seabirds, jumping fish, mountains, forests, and shifting light all around me.

I am alive. I feel my body here.

Grief can pull us out of our bodies. We get stuck in thoughts, anxiety, and mental haze. But, it lives in our bodies too. If we pay attention, we may notice the tightness in our chests. The heaviness of our limbs. The knot and sick feeling in the stomach. The pure exhaustion. This is one of the reasons that I am drawn to somatic and nature-based approaches. Getting grounded again, and regulating the nervous system becomes more important than trying to find the right words. It is about returning to the body. Nature gives us an extraordinary invitation to do this. It asks us to notice.

Perhaps, this is why the ocean feels like such a powerful companion to grief. The ocean never stays the same. Grief too, has its own tides. The goal is not to stop the ocean from moving, but learning how to move with it. When I paddle, I cannot control the water. I listen to it, observe it, adjust when needed, soften into it, and find my center. Grief asks something similar of us. It asks us to develop a different relationship with what we cannot control.

And then there is the image of the flower in the picture. I love the image of a small white daisy standing at the front of my paddleboard, surrounded by the shades of blue and vastness of the ocean. I love the contrast. Something so delicate against something so powerful. I was grieving on the day I took this photo. It reminds me that in grief, beauty exists too. We can carry profound loss and still be moved by the sight of an eagle. We can miss someone deeply and still laugh. We can feel the ache of what has changed and still be amazed by the colour of the sunset. We can be broken open by grief, and in time realize that being broken open is not the same thing as being broken. We can heal in the presence of something larger than ourselves.

Nature doesn’t ask us to explain ourselves. We can simply be. And, for a time we are enveloped by that bigger presence. We breathe. And, the body begins to remember that it is still here. We aren’t the same any more. But, we are still here.

This is what the ocean has taught me about grief. It reminds me that I am part of something ancient, complex, mysterious, beautiful, and ever-changing.

If you are grieving, you don’t have to navigate the waves alone.

Leigh Kankewitt, MC, RCC.
Grief & Loss Counselling | Somatic & Therapeutic Yoga | Nature-Based Healing

I offer compassionate, evidence-informed support for people navigating grief, loss, and life transitions. My approach blends psychotherapeutic practice with body-based techniques and nature-centred interventions to help you feel steadier, more embodied, and able to carry what matters.