These days, I have come to think of my grief as being made of water. Often times I imagine it living in the cauldron of my heart, or in that seemingly void space between my heart and stomach, maybe you can imagine it - a space that feels as if a black hole exists there, a night sea, a sea of grief where one grief lives and then another is poured into it, and then another, another ...until the grief becomes a kind of elixir I'm cooking over a fire, an elixir that cures no one, least of all me.

Other days I feel my grief is so large and so shadowy that its made of my body a haunted house; speculative fiction writer Samantha Hunt writers in her NYT interview :

" I started to think about the way we get haunted as a process of calcification, 'haunted' is when something accompanies you, when we are not fully aware of a presence. It's something that you carry around inside of you." 

I think on this at night, when mostly everything is quiet, and my thought patterns shift from my day time rhythm to more 'cocoon' thoughts which I equate to the process of 'calcification' that Hunt describes. My cocoon space becomes liquid with my grief, it becomes filled with the ghosts of my griefs which feel like ghosts, like presences I carry around within me. These griefs are both big and small. The large griefs are the loss of people, the deaths I dance with, that I try to understand and still, despite it being years later, accept. This dance sometimes becomes a grappling in the dark, I can feel myself shouldering against walls of understanding and violently losing. Maybe you understand how this kind of grief can surface like a mammoth tusk in an ice thaw. Unexpected and sharp, before it possibly recedes again, sinks back into a place where it was long buried. 

Then there are the small griefs we carry. We mourn the loss of our identity ( so many of us perhaps unexpectedly faced this these past two years with unplanned moves, job changes etc ), the feeling of not being enough, or of being 'too much'. We mourn the loss of lovers, and the loss of friends who we once thought of as family. The family who we thought we were aligned with in all matters of the heart. The grief of illness, the grief of a missed opportunity. The grief of being displaced, the grief of feeling helpless in the face of so much timeline horror ..... this griefs are also poured into the sea of my heart, the sea of the collective heart. The sea in my cocoon, where the liquid that pools around me, helps me transform, much like the moth .....

Herein lies the inspiration for our newest iteration of the large Grief Moth, an object, a jewel, a talisman to help carry your grief, both little and large. Designed to be highly tactile, this moth is a dream moth, freckled with little 'wells' of tears, a 'being', a presence on your hand or body for you to rub your fingers over like a 'worry stone' if you can't shed your own tears or are trying your best not to. 

MOTH:

The mystery of transformation and all its nuances are wrapped up in the symbology of the moth: during its time in its cocoon, its body completely liquefies, wholly transforming itself into a new, different body, all the while retaining its memories. It is an ancient creature, millions of years older than the butterfly and usually nocturnal; using the glow of the moon and stars as its guiding light.

As (mostly) nocturnal beings, Moths are often associated with the mystery, magic, and dream like quality of the Night. This nocturnality associates Moth (as well as Spider, Snake, Scorpion) with the Shadow Self. The Shadow Self is a concept via Carl Jung and represents the repressed parts of our psyche, the traits that are societally/culturally deemed ‘bad’ or ‘unacceptable’ (anger, sadness, grief, selfishness, pettiness, etc.) The shadow is composed of all of the disowned and unwanted parts of yourself that you press down into the unconscious. Shadow work – the process of identifying (rather than projecting onto others) these traits and feelings is messy, brutal, lifelong work. There are romantic aspects to it (for me, the dream of being whole), but it also has a raw quality, akin to those traumatic first days of new grief. Jung emphasizes the importance of integrating the shadow more consciously into ourselves – a way of recognizing, accepting and transforming these ‘horrors’ hidden within ourselves. As a balm / protective talisman, our Grief Moth helps carry these ‘shadow feelings’ for its wearer.

This listing is for one grief moth, paired with Onyx, paired with our signature split V band in the size of your choosing. It is hand oxidized to achieve our favorite shade of stormy gray and then highlighted to reveal the bright luminous silver beneath. 

Please note, this ring has been designed to sit on the hand at a slight angle, to make the moth appear as if it just landed on your hand to rest. Despite this unexpected design element and large size, it’s very comfortable to wear.

Details:

- 45mm tall

- 44mm at it’s widest

- Solid sterling silver

- Sits 4mm off of the finger 

- 8 x 13mm fine cut pear Onyx gemstone 

Onyx:

Onyx is best known for being a natural stone that acts as a kind of 'psychic armor' against the negativity of others. It is also used to sooth grief and heartbreak. It is a wonderful grounding stone and a stone of self mastery, enabling its wearers to have mental and spiritual focus.

The onyx stones are hand cut and therefore may have very slight differences in size and may have small signs of the carver's hands along the edges. These are not fabricated by a machine, they are made by hand and therefore aren't uniformly perfect. The photographs accurately portray the quality of the stones and the cuts. 

***IMPORTANT***

This jewel is handmade to order, just for you, with care and focus. Please allow approximately 5 weeks for creation before shipping.                   

Visit the Policy Page to make an educated and informed purchase HERE.

If you have further questions, we are always here to serve you in a kind and timely manner: via bloodmilkjewels@gmail.com