in the thick of things

Pain reaching a limit, unstoppable in its energy. Grieving. Deep, raw. Remembering.  Anchored in what is, and what can be. Peaceful protests with urgent power. A turning point.

"Grief is love that has nowhere to go,” writes zen teacher Joan Halifax.

We have so much heart. Some of us have never been given the freedom to live this heart. Fully and completely. This vast potential finding expression. For me, white and privileged, I will never quite get how this feels. But I can own this, and care. We see each other. 

So I am at a loss for words this week. I am listening, learning, educating myself, bearing witness and finding real ways to engage even if scary. We can do better. And we are doing it. We know who we are in our shared humanity and potential. Really.

Maya Angelou: “Take a day to heal from the lies you've told yourself and the ones that have been told to you.

Take longer if you must. But not too long. Because wholeness is already our nature. And then to go forward. We'll know what to do. Through a love that does not and cannot die:

Here is Pema Chodron in When Things Fall Apart. “Instead of transcending suffering, we move toward the turbulence and doubt. We move toward it however we can. We explore the reality and unpredictability of insecurity and pain, and we try not to push it away. If it takes years, if it takes lifetimes. At our own pace, without speed or aggression, we move down and down and down. With us move millions of others, our companions in awakening from fear. At the bottom, right down there in the thick of things, we discover the love that will not die.”

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