Em Liptow

What does being in the liminal space of a threshold feel like in the body?

If grief is always in relation to others, could we think of grief as the space between people? Could grief work be a practice of feeling the ever-shifting distance between the people or things we love and lose? Or the anticipation of this distance?

How does getting close to others—through proximity, touch, and song—support us in being with grief?

Commit to a long haul.

We sing over and over and over again. This is not easy. The load is too heavy to carry alone, so we take turns. We rest, we get still, we slow down, we sit. We come back to the song, to each other, to this moment, to care. Intergenerational relationships connect us to the wisdom we need for the long haul. We will see each other through this threshold and the next.

Create a thick web of intimacy.

We touch–voices, bodies, vibrations. We weave this song between ourselves and the audience. We cultivate sensitivity to how we impact one another here. Each person is a part of the web of relations. We embrace, shed tears, bump into one another, laugh, talk, and break bread.