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“We cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known.” -Brene Brown

In that stillness she was a stranger.

A stranger to herself and to everyone around her.

She used to be flashing through life. A streak of color and sometimes sound. She’d been a blur to herself under the guise of “important work”.  But now, now she had no choice but to be still. To be still and to grieve. And the thing about grief is, it has no compartments. It is its own sea. And there’s no separating directions or depths. It is. Grief is a thing that can drown a person. So, she had to learn to swim in it. To do backflips and turn herself into a human fountain.

She was washed ashore with remnant of the raft that would sometimes hold her up. She found it hard to say goodbye to the last thing she could touch of what used to be. Nearly impossible.

All that was left was stillness now. Stillness and lazy nights and memories of rushed time, memories of laughter, memories of defiant acts of justice, of late nights of lust, memories. All of them. In one sea that could still be seen but was no longer reachable.

Such loss.

What a beautiful sight.

Her life. Her life had been a beautiful sight to behold and she’d mostly only ever felt the battle until now. Until the stillness of now. It came with old echoes. Accusations of all that she never did right, the blame of misery had been piled on her head, and her heart almost couldn’t bear the weight. Until.

The sea.

The deep sea of grief took all of it. There was nothing left for her to carry. No burdens for her shoulders to bear. It was gone. The weight was gone and the fatigue of the journey was real.

So she looked out over all that had been past the wanting for it to never end, she came to understand it already had, it was gone and like the stars overhead all we were seeing was history shaped by light.  What remained was this terribly scenic view. And after so much sleep which came after so much sobbing she was still. Quiet on a lazy evening.

And with the little light off it the distance came a joy. More than joy, a filling up of heart. All that had been decayed and broken had fallen into her sea of despair leaving her so empty. Until the tears and the sobbing and the stillness brought a fullness from her life. She was no longer in the sea swimming through, now she was simply breathing the salt air that seemed to have the ability to heal everything.

T came back to her in that moment and said, “see? everything has its use. it’s purpose. Let it be.”

And then the part came that she really didn’t want to hear but she opened up and let the thoughts flow through her like air to, “now go live.”

And there was a knowing about love then. About the vibrant and eternal power of love. But that knowing is too much for words. Too massive for understanding. We can only brush the edges of it and be healed.

It filled her up and over and back into the truth of everything.



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