Grief changes the landscape of our lives.
Sometimes the change is obvious. Someone we love dies, and suddenly the ordinary places, routines, holidays, conversations, and rituals of daily life feel different. Other times, grief arrives more quietly: a relationship changes, a season of life ends, a role we once inhabited no longer fits, or we realize that the future we imagined will not unfold as expected.
Grief is not simply an emotion we experience. It is a threshold.
We stand between what was and what is becoming, often without knowing exactly how to cross.
This is one reason I believe yoga can be such a meaningful companion through grief. Not because yoga makes grief disappear. It doesn’t. And it shouldn’t.
Yoga gives us practices for staying present with what is here. It’s in that presence that we learn to be with the new reality.
Grief Is a Relationship, Not a Problem to Solve
Since my mom died, I find myself thinking differently about grief.
There is not been yet a single moment when I felt, I am finished grieving now. Instead, grief seems to move through my life in waves, appearing unexpectedly in memories, ordinary moments, familiar places, and even in the quiet spaces between activities.
I have a whole new understanding. Grief isn’t something I need to overcome. It is evidence of relationship.
We grieve because we have loved. We grieve because someone or something mattered. The absence hurts because there was once a presence that mattered deeply.
This changes the question.
Instead of asking, How do I get over this? we might ask: How can I learn to live in relationship with what has changed?
That is a very yogic question.
Yoga asks us to notice. To listen. To discern. To remain curious about our experience rather than immediately trying to change it.
In grief, that capacity becomes particularly important.
The Body Grieves, Too
Grief is often discussed as an emotional experience, but grief is also embodied.
Sleep may change. Appetite may change. Energy may fluctuate. The body may feel heavy, restless, tense, numb, exhausted, or strangely disconnected. Concentration can become difficult. A familiar yoga practice may suddenly feel completely different.
This is where a somatic approach to yoga can offer something valuable.
Rather than prescribing a particular sequence because someone is grieving, we can begin by asking: What does this person need today?
Sometimes the answer is movement.
Sometimes it is breath.
Sometimes it is stillness.
Sometimes the most meaningful practice is simply lying down and discovering that you can be supported without having to accomplish anything.
At Life’sWork Yoga, this is part of the reason our practice is organized around Breathe • Move • Rest. The intention isn’t to force the body toward a particular outcome. It is to develop awareness, support regulation, restore mobility and capacity, and create opportunities for integration.
Grief requires this kind of flexibility. We deserve permission for the practice to change because we have changed.
Yoga Doesn’t Ask Us to Let Go Before We’re Ready
There is a common misconception that healthy grieving means “letting go.” But what if grief isn’t about letting go of the relationship? What if it is about allowing the relationship to change?
The person is no longer physically present, but the relationship may continue through memory, values, stories, gestures, traditions, and the ways that person shaped who we are.
Yoga philosophy offers a useful framework here. Two concepts, similar and yet distinct: 1) vairagya and 2) aparigraha.
Aparigraha and vairagya both invite us to loosen our grip, but they arise from different places.
Aparigraha, one of the yamas of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, is the practice of non-grasping or non-hoarding. It asks us to notice where we cling, whether to possessions, relationships, identities, expectations, or outcomes, and practice releasing the need to possess or control.
Vairagya, often translated as dispassion or non-attachment, is a deeper inner orientation toward freedom from our insistence that experience be a certain way. Rather than withdrawing from life or becoming indifferent, vairagya allows us to participate fully while loosening our attachment to the results.
A simple way to distinguish them is:
Aparigraha asks: What am I holding onto that I don’t need to hold?
Vairagya asks: Can I remain present and engaged without needing this to be different than it is?
In grief, both can become powerful practices. Aparigraha may help us release our grasp on how life was supposed to be, while vairagya invites us to remain open to what life is becoming—without requiring ourselves to stop loving what we have lost.
Both teach us that non-attachment does not mean indifference. It does not mean pretending we don’t care.
It can instead be understood as loosening our insistence that life remain exactly as we want it to be.
We can love deeply without being able to control the outcome. We can remember without recreating. We can honor what was while allowing ourselves to discover what is next.
The Threshold Is the Practice
In Thresholds & Relationships, our new season of Storytime & Coaches Chat, I have been exploring the idea that some of the most important moments in our lives occur at thresholds—the places where one way of being has ended but the next has not yet fully emerged.
Grief is one of those thresholds.
There can be an uncomfortable temptation to rush through it. To return to normal. To become productive again. To “move forward.” But perhaps the invitation is not always about moving forward. Perhaps sometimes it is deeper.
Deeper into listening.
Deeper into relationship.
Deeper into presence.
Deeper into the truth that we cannot control every transition life gives us.
Yoga gives us a place to practice this.
One breath.
One sensation.
One movement.
One moment of rest.
Again and again, we learn to meet ourselves where we actually are.
And eventually, perhaps, we discover something unexpected: We do not have to leave the threshold before we can begin living again.
We can carry love across it.
We can carry memory across it.
We can carry what we have learned across it.
And we can begin again, not because we have forgotten what was, but because we have allowed what was to become part of who we are.
That, to me, is one of the deepest possibilities of yoga. Not escaping the human experience. Becoming more fully present for it.
Questions About Yoga and Grief
Can yoga help with grief?
Yoga cannot remove grief or replace professional grief counseling when that support is needed. However, an individualized yoga practice may provide tools for breath awareness, relaxation, gentle movement, self-awareness, and nervous-system regulation. Yoga therapy can also be adapted for people navigating significant life transitions, including grief and death.
What type of yoga is best when you’re grieving?
There is no single “best” practice. Grief can change from day to day, so the most appropriate practice may vary. Gentle movement, restorative practices, breathwork, meditation, sound, walking, or simply resting may all be appropriate at different moments. A therapeutic approach emphasizes adaptation rather than requiring the person to fit a predetermined practice.
Should I practice yoga if I feel emotionally overwhelmed?
You don’t have to push through overwhelming emotions to benefit from yoga. In fact, a supportive practice may begin with something very simple: noticing your breath, feeling your feet on the floor, orienting to the room, or allowing yourself to rest. At Life’sWork, our philosophy is simple: come as you are. The only requirement is that you breathe; everything else is optional.
Can yoga replace grief therapy?
No. Yoga can be a complementary practice, not a replacement for appropriate mental-health or grief support. For some people, yoga provides an embodied way to complement counseling, community, spiritual practice, and other forms of care.
What if I don’t feel like doing yoga after someone dies?
Then don’t force yourself. That may be part of the practice, too.
Yoga is not measured by how much you accomplish on a mat. Sometimes practicing means listening honestly enough to recognize that today you need rest, connection, a walk, a conversation, or professional support.
The practice is not to perform wellness. The practice is to remain in relationship with yourself. And sometimes, especially in grief, that is more than enough.
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