What a Jar of Saltwater is Teaching Me About Grief, Sadness, and God
A simple spiritual practice for sitting with difficult emotions.
Recently I’ve been reading Fieldnotes for the Wilderness by Sarah Bessey, and as someone who’s been researching church culture, spiritual abuse, and deconstruction, this has been a timely read. However, outside of school there’s been a lot going on in my personal life, and something I found in Bessey’s book has really helped me.
In chapter six, while sharing about lament (as a spiritual director, I was doing a happy dance reading this chapter) she talks about a simple practice that her spiritual director suggested to honour moments of grief/sadness.
Find a jar, put some water in it, and set it where you have easy access to it. For Bessey, and for me, the jar ended up on her (my) desk. Next to it have a dish of salt, with a spoon in it. When you’re feeling moments of grief/sadness, spoon some salt into the water.
Now, when I explained this to a friend I got the reaction I was expecting- “soooo, what’s the point?!” Even Bessey herself said, “It seemed kind of silly to me, but hey, I’m nothing if not game.”1 And I’ll admit it too… even as a spiritual director, I was like… yeah… okay. But! I, too, am nothing if not game.
So I found a mason jar, put some water in it, and set it on my desk. Then I found a (larger than I wanted) dish, and went searching for some salt. I soon learned that in my house, I only have Pink Himalayan salt (thanks Costco). Chunks of it, because it’s in a grinder. Apparently I’m bougie. I’m nothing if not game… I’m going to try this, I told myself. So I poured some of the salt rocks into my too large dish, and set it next to my jar of water.
I waited…
And, I waited…
I looked at my jar…
I looked at my dish…
I thought, what am I doing?!
My jar and my dish sat there for over a week, silently mocking me on my desk. I knew I had things that upset me. I knew I was carrying burdens that I wanted to let go of, but for whatever reason, I was clinging to them - holding on for dear life.
One day, I picked up one piece of rock salt, and I dropped it into the water. *kerplunk* I swirled the water around watching it dissolve, thinking about my sadness, and releasing it as the rock whipped around the bottom of the jar. When I looked at it later, it was gone.
A couple days later, I added another piece as I thought about a situation that was weighing heavily on my heart. I swirled it around, pondering the salt, and what I was feeling. I shared with God all the anger, and frustration I was experiencing.
A few days after that, I added two pieces. I was stressed about something, and I wondered if it would have the same affect. I didn’t swirl them, I just let them dissolve, checking on them every once in a while. Remembering, and releasing.
Then, all at once, I had a number of things pile on me. I added salt to my jar. A couple rocks the first day. But the second day, I scooped out a bunch of those hard little salty gems, and dropped them (not nicely) into my jar. I didn’t swirl it. I left it. I didn’t want to sit with it. It hurt too much. I walked out of my office.
…each one of us sits by a pool of tears…
-Trevor Hudson
The next day I went back into my office. My jar sat on my desk to greet me as I eased myself into my chair, getting ready for another long day of paper writing, and heavy heartedness. I thought about adding more salt to my jar, but instead I picked it up, and swirled it around. Not all the salt had dissolved, there was still one larger chunk of dark pink salt sitting on the bottom amongst a bunch of pink residue. As the water swirled, it went around, and around, and around the bottom of the jar.
What am I supposed to do with this, God? I thought to myself.
I sat with my grief (and my jar, and my dark pink, insoluble hunk of salt) for a few moments, pondering. This is what I learned…
Some emotions are small, and dissolve easily, but that doesn’t make them any less important. Some emotions are big, jagged, and remain with us for a long time. We need those, too, even if we don’t want them. As I write this, there is still a residue at the bottom of my jar. Some feelings never go away, no matter how much we swirl the jar, and that’s okay, too.
Emotions aren’t good or bad, they just tell us how we’re feeling. Yes, it’s easier to suppress difficult emotions but they’ll come out eventually (trust me, I know).
While I was doing all this, I didn’t sugarcoat my feelings with God/Creator/The Universe. Even that first time, I was like - welp, whatever God, let’s give it a go. I certainly didn’t hold back as I watched the scoop of rocks fall into the water. I let God have all my anger, and sadness. Then I walked away. Take it! I don’t want it! You can have it! I yelled at God.
Like my stubborn little dark pink salt rock, God was waiting for me the next day when I sat down. Yes, you’re angry, God said to me. Yes, you’re sad. No, it’s not fair. Yes, I’m still here.
To ponder…
Have you ever tried a spiritual practice with the mindset of “I’m nothing if not game?”
What did you learn about God?
What did you learn about yourself?
Bessey, Sarah. 2024. Field Notes for the Wilderness: Practices for an Evolving Faith. New York: Convergent, 92.