8 grounding practices to help you stay connected, compassionate, and emotionally steady during times of collective grief, violence and loss.
Life is pain, Highness.
Anyone who says differently is selling something.
The Princess Bride
Does the recent news feel emotionally overwhelming to you? Are you wondering how you could feel such deep grief for people you never met because their vulnerability feels too familiar? Do you find yourself unable to turn away from social media in hopes that a new development might change the ache inside?
Collective grief is a shared experience of mourning that unfolds after a significant, often unexpected loss—whether through natural disaster or a human-caused traumatic event like a mass shooting. This kind of grief has layers: at the center are those most directly impacted, and in the outer rings are the rest of us who did not know the victims personally but felt a connection through our shared humanity. Their stories evoke sadness, fear, and other heavy emotions that land deeply within us.
Many of us are struggling with collective grief as I write this blog.
If you are one of them, read on.
Dear Fellow Travelers,
Last month we were exploring strategies to survive the holidays—managing stress, creating realistic expectations for our time and energy, and setting boundaries in ways that are both self-compassionate and respectful of others.
Those stressors felt big at the time. And yet, compared to what unfolded this weekend, they now feel almost…manageable or minuscule. Don’t we wish today (12/17/25) that we could return to those struggles?
This weekend brought a cascade of devastation. Images and news emerged of Brown University students studying for final exams when an active shooter breached their campus and killed two people while injuring more. On the other side of the world, people gathered to celebrate Hanukkah on a beach in Australia when two armed shooters invaded this holy space, killing 15 people and injuring 20 more—including a heroic Muslim man who threw himself atop an assailant to save strangers, taking a bullet in his shoulder.
It was too much for our hearts to hold. The helplessness, the horror, the rawness of grief washed over us in a familiar ache of yet another act of community and gun violence.
And then we learned of Rob and Michelle Reiner’s murders in Brentwood, California. We relate to Rob Reiner—an everyman who told the stories we turn to when we are sad, lost, lonely, or yearning for something as comforting as a mug of warm cocoa and a hug that reaches our souls. Most of us have someone in our lives who resembles him: the supportive, jovial relative or teacher or mentor or childhood friend’s dad who leaves us feeling lighter and a little more inspired.
Many of us have also had our lives touched by addiction—our own or that of someone we love. We know the helplessness, confusion, fear, anger, and deep grief that families experience as they try to pair profound love with healthy limit-setting. The Reiners’ deaths feel beyond belief, with no hope or silver lining available right now. And layered within the grief is the unsettling recognition of pieces of their story in our own and the quiet whisper, echoing John Bradford’s words: “there but by the grace of God goes John Bradford.”
It’s hard to know what to do with the helplessness, sadness, and fear these tragedies stir up, isn’t it? They remind us how deeply we are struggling—as a species—to reach across what divides us and ensure we all make our way forward.
Helplessness is one of the hardest emotional states for our brains to hold. It lacks movement and energy—no anger to propel us, no urgency to activate us. Instead, it breeds anxiety and resignation, understandable reactions to events that make the world feel unpredictable and unsafe. Psychologist Martin Seligman demonstrated this through his famous learned helplessness experiments: after repeated failed attempts to escape, the dogs eventually lay down and stopped trying because nothing had made a difference.
So how do we fight learned helplessness, fellow travelers?
We invest our time, attention, and energy wisely—into relationships and pursuits that matter to us and where even the smallest effort feels meaningful.
Here are some places to begin.
Eight Grounding Practices to Reclaim Hope and Agency During Collective Grief
1. Reach out with simple, meaningful kindness.
Send a note, email, or text to someone navigating addiction, grief, estrangement, or loss. Make it simple. Make it kind.
2. Give back in ways that match your resources.
If you have the financial means, purchase grocery store gift cards or bottled water for neighbors living on the street. If finances are tight, offer to rake a yard, shovel snow, pick up trash at a park, or check on someone who may be feeling isolated.
3. Turn off screens and refresh your mind.
Choose something to read—or listen to—that reconnects you with human resilience. A few options:
- The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz
- The Book of Hope by Jane Goodall & Douglas Abrams
- The Book of Joy by Archbishop Desmond Tutu, His Holiness the Dalai Lama & Douglas Abrams
4. Choose intentional connection.
If schedules or geography make in-person time difficult, set up a virtual tea or phone call with a friend or loved one. Even brief, genuine connection can shift our emotional weather.
5. Journal—or draw—your feelings out of your body.
Let heavy emotions land somewhere outside your mind. Try prompts like:
- What was my hardest moment today?
- When did I feel sad, angry, worried, helpless, or ashamed today?
- Where did I find small moments of gratitude?
6. Set clear, attainable goals for your limited energy.
Identify where your emotional or cognitive energy is leaking. Consider what self-compassionate boundaries might help protect it.
7. Create a self-compassion plan for news and social media.
Clarify when, where, how, and how much news you can consume before it becomes harmful. Boundaries are not avoidance—they are self-respect and preservation.
8. Check in with your body.
Notice tension, changes in sleep or appetite, headaches, stomachaches, irritability, or shifts in coping patterns. Ask: What small, realistic investment of care would help my body right now?
Finding Hope When the World Feels Heavy: A Lesson from The Princess Bride
Before I close, I want to share a piece of comfort from one of my favorite movies, The Princess Bride. I return to it often when I’m feeling big feelings or when my body is trying to recover from emotional overload.
Westley, the story’s hero, was not extraordinary. He was a quiet, unassuming, regular person—just like we are. After leaving Buttercup, he channeled his grief and loss into learning, growing, and strengthening himself. He kept going even when things were hard, even when he failed, even when everything looked hopeless. And in the end, he rode away with his true love—and with two of the most beloved sidekicks in cinematic history, Fezzik the giant and Inigo Montoya, the Spanish swordsman—resilient and unbroken.
We may not be Westley, but we know what it is to keep going—especially when the world feels unsafe and unbearably heavy.
Keep going, fellow travelers.
Not because the world is easy, but because your presence in it matters.
Ubuntu, fellow travelers.
Jennifer
P.S. If you are wanting to learn more about how to strategically use your attention, energy and time, you might enjoy this blog.
