This is a quiet yet painful time. Everything is shifting, changing, burning up.
The Phoenix's time to burn.
In the absence of the ability to physically see and hug my friends my other senses become more attuned. Like a cats whiskers sensing the width of doorways and tunnels. In the many conversations I've had on the phone over the last few weeks I found myself noticing the quiet on the other side while I spoke. You can't see it, but it's tangible.
An energetic expanse of empathy.
I felt as if I was having an out of body experience.
The quiet of someone I love cradling my words like fragile butterflies.
Truly caring about me. Hearing what I say. And wanting to know. Feeling how I feel. Putting aside their own feelings for a minute. Gifting me their silence.
And then, the switch. I am quiet and they start speaking. And I do the same for them. The most sacred of exchanges. The most holy of moments.
And we participate in what is now called "holding space". What a beautiful beautiful phrase.
And I was in awe suddenly. In the midst of all of this.
A sacred vessel. Where I am saved time and time again from utter despair.
The most distinctive act of love.
If it were a physical object listening would be a cushion, a clay jar, a net made of gossamer. It would be the most sacred of life rafts, a quilt. If it were a physical object it would be priceless. If it were a sound it would be the softest orchestra or a spring breeze through the trees.
These days my emotions aren't tidy and neat, and I'm not alone in that truth. The most beautiful moments are when I can entrust my thoughts and fears with someone I love, and they gift me the gift of their gossamer net.
And they trust me enough to do so in return.
I think perhaps this sacred event may be my favorite thing about being human. The thing I cherish the most. The thing that makes us the most wonderful.
All I feel these days is how deeply grateful I am for the people who have thrown me their life raft, helped me find myself and pointed me in the direction of home.
And I can only hope I do the same for them.
I believe in the human race if the human race were like the people I have come to know. I consider myself unbearably lucky to have them on the other end of the line. Especially now.
And especially now, being faced with the fragility of human life, the importance of appreciating each other becomes profound and important.
It's all we really have on this painfully exquisite planet in the middle of endless space. The thing we really want. And need.
I read recently that when we love deeply we also grieve that much more. With love comes grief. And I would always choose them both together. Every time. No matter how painful it is.
When you speak to someone next, notice the silent space of listening, and feel the overwhelming love within it.
It may be the most beautiful silence of all.
The most sacred exchange.