If you were here...

Oh, friend.

If we were neighbors, or maybe just in the same city, we’d sit down and have a long catch up. I’d put a lovely diffuser blend on (maybe Lavender, Lemon, & Peppermint) and make us each a cup of tea or black coffee if that is your favorite, a smoothie if you are feeling for more nourishment.

We could sit together and unwind what is going in our lives. I’d love to tell you all the things that I am learning, un-learning, and re-learning. I’d love to hear all the things that you are thinking and feeling this day, this week, this month. I’d love to hear how your heart is crying out and your soul is shining and how your mind is making sense of it all (or not), too.

If you were here I’d tell you I’m in the midst of an un-doing. It feels like I’ve been beautifully unraveling for a while now but here I stand near naked but not ashamed. Afraid -a little- of the pain I may experience as those who once knew me maybe feel they don’t anymore. A little too raw. Maybe too quiet now, or too loud about the wrong things. I’d tell you how this unraveling is the beginning of something beautiful. In the midst of soaking my t-shirts with snot and tears that prayers from my soul were being unleashed. I’d tell you that while I’ve believed I could lose what I have gained I am now not afraid to walk where others dare not tread because I know that what I’ve gained cannot be eaten by moth, nor destroyed by fire. That I know that deep, reckless Love follows me where ever my feet wander. That truth is being forged in me so deep it can never be taken.

I’d want to hold your hand while you tell me your deepest heart. I’d cry when you cry and laugh when you laugh to be a mirror for you. To be, even just for a moment, someone focused completely on you. I’d tell you “I don’t know” to any and all questions you ask because I have learned that is almost always the best (and most correct) answer. I’d sit with you in silence, I’d listen carefully while you spoke. And for a few moments we would witness each other fully.

I’d hug you. Long and hard before you left because I’m convinced we cannot be hugged enough. And in the silence of your absence I would say a prayer for you. A prayer for peace, for love, for the deepest sincerity of life that is yours.

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