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“Grief is not evidence of failure — but evidence that we have loved.”
Over the Winter Solstice, I became aware of an issue with my left shoulder. At first it was little more than a discomfort, but over time it grew progressively more painful, particularly through January and February. Some of you will know that I had to cancel a couple of sessions earlier this year and, since then, have needed help lifting and carrying the gongs.
Interestingly, whilst the shoulder improved considerably during a recent period of rest, saltwater and swimming, it still grumbles enough that I continue to pay attention to it.
I have found myself wondering whether the body sometimes speaks in symbols as well as symptoms.
For me, this shoulder has come to feel less like an inconvenience and more like a quiet reminder and invitation:
to put things down.
To release unnecessary heaviness, old burdens, expectations and ways of carrying life that no longer belong to me.
This feels deeply connected to the inner work I have been moving through over recent years — a time of endings, grief, transformation and profound change.
And then, in 2018 — Enter the Pluto Gong!
At the time, I did not fully understand why I felt such a strong call towards it. I only knew there was something deeply resonant about its sound — something ancient, spacious and strangely familiar.
Later, my astrologer confirmed that during this same period, Pluto was making repeated exact transits across my Ascendant as it moved back and forth through its retrograde cycle — an astrological passage often associated with endings, transformation and profound rebirth.
During that same period, a seventeen-year relationship came to an end. My beloved dog companion passed away. And then, in the early days of the 2020 lockdowns, my father entered a care home in Scotland and died a couple of weeks later.
Like so many families at that time, we were unable to be physically present at the end. I could not visit him, nor attend his funeral in person. I sometimes think we must have been amongst the first families in the country to say goodbye over Zoom.
Looking back now, I can see that this entire period carried the feeling of an underworld journey — both personal and collective.
Whilst the transformation had already begun, I now look back and feel the Pluto gong arrived with extraordinary timing. I cannot say it took grief away — nor would I wish it to. Grief is part of the human condition. We cannot love deeply and remain untouched by loss.
But I do believe the gong supported me in journeying through grief in a wholesome and embodied way.
Its sound seemed to create space.
Space to feel.
Space to soften.
Space to breathe.
Space to surrender what could no longer be held.
In many spiritual traditions, Pluto is associated with the Underworld — not as a place of punishment, but as a realm of transformation. A descent. A stripping away of what is false, exhausted or complete, so that something more authentic may emerge.
During my gong training, it became apparent to me that the Pluto gong carries a uniquely deep and penetrating quality. Like all gongs, its vibrations can support profound relaxation and altered states of consciousness through a process known as entrainment, where the brain and nervous system begin to respond to sound frequencies and vibration. Yet the Pluto gong feels different somehow — earthy, primordial, uncompromising and deeply restorative all at once. Someone once described it as having a haunting voice, and there is something in its sound that seems to echo through hidden places within us.
If you are curious to hear the unique sound of the Pluto gong itself, you can explore the Sound-Well Gong Family online, where each gong can be individually heard simply by clicking on its image.
Explore the Sound-Well Gong Family
Not dramatic.
Not frightening.
But honest.
Its sound reminds me that endings are not failures.
Perhaps this is one of the great misunderstandings around grief in modern culture. We are often encouraged to move on quickly, suppress difficult feelings or focus only on “positive” emotions. Yet grief is not evidence that something has gone wrong. Grief is evidence that we have loved.
And to love is to accept that, at some point, we will also experience loss.
Recently, I came across this beautiful reflection:
“The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief, but the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love.”
— Hilary Stanton Zunin
Someone else recently described grief as being like a river that accompanies us throughout life, and that feels true to me. Sometimes it flows quietly in the background. Sometimes it floods the banks unexpectedly. But perhaps the task is not to dam the river entirely, but to learn how to move with it — how to live in right relationship with endings.
This feels especially important at this moment in the world.
Many sensitive souls are carrying not only personal grief, but collective grief too: grief for conflict and suffering, grief for damaged ecosystems and disappearing species, grief for the increasing sense of disconnection many people feel from themselves, each other and the natural world.
And yet alongside all of this, there remains extraordinary beauty.
Acts of kindness.
Human warmth.
Music, dance and stories.
Friendship.
Birdsong.
Sunlight on water.
The courage of people continuing to love despite everything.
Death and grief do not exclude life and joy. They can live alongside one another if we allow the heart to remain open enough to hold both.
Recently, I came across the work of Dance Connection and Jewel who spoke beautifully following the recent death of her mother. Her reflections echoed something I have long felt myself: that we must consciously nourish what feeds our life force, resilience and joy, especially during challenging times.
It is so easy to let time pass through our fingers doing things that do not truly nourish us.
"Sometimes life asks us to support others through challenge or loss. Sometimes we ourselves enter periods of uncertainty or sorrow. In either case, wherever we can make time to nourish the body, feed the spirit, honour our emotions, connect with beauty and remain grateful for the small sacred moments of daily life — that is time well spent." Julia Hope Brighwell, Dance Connection
This coming Saturday brings the New Moon — a time often associated with intention, beginnings and calling new things into our lives. Yet perhaps we sometimes forget that every true beginning also requires an ending.
An exhalation before the inhale.
A letting go.
A willingness to loosen our grip on what has become too heavy to hold.
You can also read my companion reflection, Where Intention Begins: The Ground Beneath Intention — A Guide to Feeling, Frequency, and Inner Listening, which explores intention not simply as manifestation, but as a process of embodied listening and energetic alignment.
Some of these themes — gentle returning, release, remembrance and learning to soften what we carry — are also explored within The Spiral Home meditation series.
Whilst winter is often associated with the underworld journey, perhaps each lunar cycle — even each day itself — contains its own cycle of death and renewal.
Each evening invites us to let go:
of worries,
resentments,
roles,
fears,
expectations.
We sleep.
We dream.
We restore.
And then, with the rising of the sun, life begins again.
Who are we when the old skin no longer fits — and cannot be put back on?
Perhaps that is not a question to fear.
Perhaps it is simply part of becoming more fully ourselves.
Due to its size and weight, the 38" Pluto gong is rarely able to travel to community sound baths. However, private 1:1 and 1:2 private sessions at my Sound-Well practice space, offer an opportunity to experience this remarkable instrument more intimately.
In these sessions, the Pluto gong is often combined with the deeply grounding Root Chakra Gong, Heart Gong, Solar Plexus Gong and Singing Bowl Wind Gong, plus more — creating a rich and supportive soundscape designed to encourage relaxation, nervous system restoration, emotional release and inner integration.
These sessions are not about “fixing” grief or forcing transformation, but gently creating the conditions in which healing, reflection and reconnection may naturally unfold.
For those moving through periods of change, loss, transition, emotional exhaustion or simply feeling the need to put something down and breathe more deeply again, these private sound baths can offer a deeply nourishing space of support.
If you would like to know more or book a private session, please get in touch via
Sound-Well
