Like a Seed, Know that You Are Held by the Sureness of the Soil

Hey bestie,

There is a particular stage of grief, or burnout, where you do not need another person to assure you that you will not feel like this forever. You know.

You would just like to know how fucking long we're staying here?!?

Persephone, Goddess of the Underworld and Spring,  I love what you've done with the place. Very dramatic. Excellent pomegranates. Strong commitment to atmosphere.

But does the Underworld have an exit? I beg!

Our culture has an avoidant tendency to refuse to leave suffering alone long enough for it to actually be suffering. Something breaks your heart and almost immediately somebody wants to know what you learned.

“How are you growing? Have you tried gratitude? Maybe this is actually an opportunity. Everything happens for a...”

Straight to jail.

Do not FINISH that SENTENCE in my HOUSE.

Women in particular are expected to make suffering productive. We're supposed to emerge wiser, stronger, hotter, more empowered and ideally with a small business.

To be clear, I'm not saying that's always bad. I literally did that in 2024, which is why you are able to read this today.

But I'm not doing that this time.

Sometimes you are in the Underworld, and that is the part of the story you are living. End of.

Some days I can make meaning from grief and I can see what it is teaching me. Other days I am just fucking sad and mad. Neither day is spiritually superior.

The Underworld is not necessarily where you discover the lesson. Sometimes it is where you discover that you can remain alive in darkness.

And while I am so sorry to all the love and light girlies, I regret to inform you that darkness itself is not the enemy.

Black is the colour of my true love's hair, sang Miss Nina Simone. Soil is dark too. Roots grow in darkness. Seeds spend entire seasons where nobody can see what they are doing. The earth does not dig them up every Thursday to ask whether they've made sufficient progress and whether they've written in their gratitude journal down there.

What i'm trying to say here is that there is a kind of darkness that devours. There is also a darkness that holds.

A Ritual for the Woman Who Is Still Underground

You will need something dark red to eat or drink. A pomegranate or pomegranate juice is beautiful if you can find it, but Persephone will not be auditing your produce drawer and I won't be either. A dark red apple, red or purple grapes, frozen cherries, cranberries, cherry juice or cranberry juice will do just fine.

You will also need a black candle and a dark blanket. Again, if you don't have a black candle, white candles can be substituted for any other colour, and honestly as long as your candle works, it works for me.

Sit somewhere comfortable, on the floor if that feels good in your body, and wrap yourself in the blanket. Let yourself be enclosed.

Temple Soundtrack: Listen to the Temple Soundtrack on Spotify

For this ritual, go to the Temple Soundtrack and play Roots of the Earth (Medicina Mix).

Hold the fruit or drink in both hands and say:

I am not required to bloom underground.
I am not required to understand this yet.
I am not required to turn pain into wisdom on anyone else's schedule.

The earth beneath me is sure.
The dark around me is not empty.
I am held while I become what I cannot yet see.

For now, I remain alive.
For now, that is enough.

Eat the fruit or drink slowly. Stay wrapped in the blanket for as long as you need.

The ritual is what you do. The blessing is what you receive. Read this aloud while you are still wrapped in the dark, or save it for the nights when everyone else seems to think you should be upstairs already.

A Blessing for the Woman Who Is Still Underground

Beloved,

May nobody demand a lesson from you before you have finished grieving. May you be spared those who arrive at the mouth of the cave shouting about silver linings.

May you remember the sureness of the soil. The earth does not ask the seed why it has not flowered in November.

May the soil hold you, warm you, keep you and protect what is still tender and unfinished in the sacred, nourishing, loving darkness. May you remember that being underground is not the same as being buried.

May you rest among the roots of things you cannot yet see growing. May you eat when you can, sleep when you can, and laugh when laughter finds you.

May you refuse to perform resurrection for an audience impatient with your grief. May the darkness hold you without convincing you that darkness is all there is.

May spring remain possible without becoming an assignment. And may you trust that you do not have to know the way out in order for an exit to exist.

With love from somewhere beneath the surface,

Sierra

From The Book of Blessings by Sierra Jamerson · Temple of Sound
Free spells, blessings, rituals and letters: templeofsound.co/the-temple-letters