The Wailing Grief Chanting of Ancient Ireland - Caoineadh Keening

All ancient cultures of the West and beyond held community at heart, and they all danced together, sang together and wept together. We have simply forgotten.

In ancient Ireland, I am discovering the old practice called keening, “caoineadh,” where a group of elder women would be called upon during times of grief. They would sing and recite improvised poetry; the family of the loved one would wail, and the elders would continue with chants. It was said to pass on the soul of the loved one and bring cathartic release for the family. Rather than closing the door and crying alone, they would do this together. Much of my life's work with people has been based on this concept, and much of my personal life has involved weeping openly too.

The keening practice varied across different regions in Ireland and also Scotland. It is described as an extremely raw process for mourners in comparison to current practices of grief; it was very outwardly expressed. Since Catholic influences became more prominent, the practice was pushed out of the mainstream and became an underground practice, though opinions remain divided on the topic. I cannot deny the historical accounts of how atrociously Irish tradition was pushed out, the shame and intergenerational trauma that rippled through the country, the language being forced out tore a culture apart, and the torment that was suffered as a result of such acts. It is hard to separate political opinions; however, the facts remain that Ireland has sustained some of its historical practices, and still to this day, many are remembering.

Grief is a process of remembering; it can upheave our entire identity. It is often that we want to honour the life that is gone before us, and the keening women were there to honour this. The wailing and crying was a precious and sacred act to give voice and sound to the pain felt. In today's world, such acts are rarely displayed, and we are encouraged to move on.

Many of my clients who I have worked with have expressed that, after a bereavement, many conversations become awkward, and sometimes they have been overly identified as the person who lost a loved one. This is usually the case when it has been a tragic loss, and sometimes this can happen when a tragedy has occurred for them. I have heard accounts of people who carry their grief with them for years and years, and I have looked at the research in this area as to why. It usually relates to feelings of belonging.

However, my point here is: what if you had a space where permission was not only given to cry and mourn, but what if you had a practice that was shared with someone who can attune to your process and play sounds or sing for you? Where you are wrapped up and cared for, or where you can express yourself through an art form of some kind. Where you can honour the person who has left and have them celebrated by another.

What I take from this is that death is a community act, and in many cultures throughout history, it has always been so. Especially when we look at grief and the impact it can have on our identity and sense of belonging.

I have created containers in my therapy spaces for 15 years. I am now expanding that and embracing my roots, where we can have access to this space. I am always deeply moved by grief, and I know that it is a process to be embodied rather than avoided.

Since connecting with my ancestry, and holding no musical experience prior to this, I have written a song. I sing songs to honour my journey, and I play instruments that I had no knowledge of before. I feel ready now to offer this sacred and soulful way of being to enable people through their journeys.

You might not have a grief that you can remember, or have even lost anyone, to benefit from this process. So please get in touch about the Ancestral Nurturing sessions if it feels like it calls you.

CopyRight Emma Kennedy 12/08/2026