At 22, I stood before world leaders at the United Nations advocating for climate action. The weight of responsibility was immense, but so was my belief in the power of collective action. Today, as I approach 40, that sense of agency has waned, replaced by a profound sense of weltschmerz—a deep sorrow for the state of the world.
In the face of overwhelming despair, I’ve learned that embracing grief, rather than avoiding it, can be a path to healing and hope. This journey has led me to the transformative power of collective singing, a practice that opens the heart and fosters connection.
The Ancient Practice of Lament
Walter Brueggemann a scholar of the Hebrew Bible, explained in 2026 that lament is not merely an expression of sadness. It is the breaking of numbness, the admission of pain and loss. In a culture that often discourages grief, this ancient practice teaches us that we must cry out to retrieve a sense of hope and possibility. As Brueggemann writes, “Only those who embrace the reality of death will receive the new life.”
But how do we engage in this practice? Where can we go to weep and mourn? For me, the answer came through an unexpected portal—singing with friends.
The Portal of Collective Singing
One evening, after a monthly singing gathering, a few of us lingered behind. Inspired by the shared experience, we began to open up about our sorrows. Matthew a talented musical improviser, started singing his sadness at the piano. His raw, unfiltered expression of grief struck a chord within me, filling my eyes with tears and my heart with a renewed sense of life.
Ahlay Blakely a modern-day grief ritualist, songwriter, and facilitator, understands this power. She sees herself as a professional mourner, hosting retreats that help people touch their grief in tender and radical ways. “Singing with people is often a gateway to deeper work with grief,” she explained. Singing makes us vulnerable, opening us to the deeper pain we might be avoiding in our everyday lives.
The Science Behind the Magic
A study from 2014 by musicologist Gunter Kreutz provides a scientific explanation for this phenomenon. The study found that oxytocin levels, often described as the “love hormone,” increased significantly during group singing but not during ordinary social interaction. This suggests that singing enhances our well-being and connects us to others more effectively than conversation alone.
Grief as an Ally
Carla Fernandez author of Renegade Grief agrees that grief is not something to overcome but to befriend. “Grief is not messy—it’s wildly fertile,” she told me. “When we don’t go there, we miss out on such fecundity from which real relationships can grow, and solutions can form, and ideas can emerge.”
This perspective resonates with my experience. Sitting on my living room carpet, singing with friends, I felt a profound shift. The grief that had been weighing me down began to feel like a source of strength and connection.
Singing in Political Spaces
Perhaps this practice of collective singing is what we need more of in our political spaces as well. The success of the Singing Resistance in Minneapolis earlier this year demonstrated the power of music to mobilize people for collective action and bear witness to injustice in a way that keeps us hopeful and aware of our power to do good.
Heidi Wilson the composer of “Hold On,” which has become an anthem in the Singing Resistance movement, puts it best. “Grief is about feeling cut off from something, losing something, and singing is an experience of reconnecting.” In a world that often feels divided, singing together can remind us of our shared humanity and the beauty we can create together.
