“What if joy is not only entangled with pain, or suffering, or sorrow, but is also what emerges from how we care for each other through those things? What if joy, instead of refuge or relief from heartbreak, is what effloresces from us as we help each other carry our heartbreaks?” - Ross Gay
What a great quote!! Mmmm…I want to share a story. It’s going to sound very self-serving slash horn trumpeting but it is totally not intended to be. I happen to strongly dislike tooting my own horn. Strongly. Ugh!! What was said to me isn’t the message here, the rest is the message I want to convey.
A few months ago now, I was feeling extra tender and was grieving (only I hadn’t realized it yet), just before I went fully into the darkness for a bit. Here’s the thing: I have a very tender heart normally. Of course. I’ve been pretty clear about that, I think. College was in between classes and I had a lot of breathing time and some extra, extra emotions just needed to surface. There’s more to say about that, but I’m going to let the story tell some of it for me.
Remember that quote from Campbell I shared a while ago about being softer and being even more supported when you are? This story demonstrates how amazingly true that quote is. Although I will say the caveat is that it’s going to require some vulnerability on your part, if you are the one softening.
Maybe you remember in that same post I had gotten COVID again and, just as a reminder, it was a gift, and I asked for help. Not even asked for help, I just told people what I needed and guess what? I was blessed and supported, even, you might say. Now, I am not a frequent flier when it comes to asking for help, so maybe, just maybe, it IS because I don’t over ask, but I felt very supported during this time. Aaaaaannnnnddddddd in this new story as well.
Anyway, so I was being extra tender and, thus, weepy. Okay, okay, full disclosure. At points, when by myself, I was outright ugly crying, not just weepy. One of my darling friends noticed, actually several, but one of them made a point to very gently lead me to a place where we could talk. It was her and I chatting quietly, each fully present. And I told her I was having some big feelings, and I didn’t really know why yet or what it was about. The tears just surfaced out of nowhere and I didn’t want to not feel them or try to distract myself from feeling them and was, instead, letting them out. I told her I am not one to keep myself busy to avoid feelings my emotions at all (which she already knew) and now that they had rose up, that I didn’t want to stifle them, I just wanted to feel them all, and inspect them before letting them go. It was more in depth than that, but that was the gist of it.
This was right before I finally recognized that what I was experiencing wasn’t just a feeling, but grief. Not something to be sad about, either. It’s actually a celebration because grief goes right along with love. They are always sung in harmony to each other. And I know a little something about love.
Suddenly, one of my other friends appeared out of nowhere, and I motioned her in. I just continued to cry and talk and share. Both of my friends listened intently and told me sometimes they feel the same way. That, in and of itself, is comforting. Yep, I know I have a big, tender, full and floppy heart, but it soothes me to know I’m not alone.
Then one of them said the sweetest thing. I can’t remember it verbatim, but it was something like the most beautiful thing about you is how you know not only exactly how and what you’re feeling, but how to describe it in a way that is relatable to others, so I know you'll figure this out. The other thing she said is that you’re not afraid of how you feel, nor are you afraid to feel it. She told me she thought that it made me particularly empathetic and intuitive about other people as well.
I saw a quote the other day from Grateful Living that spoke to this beautifully, “Strength means honoring your entire range of emotion, even your despair and heartbreak. It means acknowledging each of those feelings, your questions and ideas and faith and terror, and meeting what comes with the full force of your heart.” - Brenda Shaughnessy
Mmmm! “Meeting what comes with the full force of your heart.” This sentence, alone, brings me to tears. Mostly because I do feel my emotion with the full force of my heart. Sometimes, it sucks, honestly. And I’ll tell you another thing, it doesn’t even remotely feel like strength when I am honoring it. It feels like an unsightly mound of flesh sunken onto the floor in a puddle without so much as an oar to use as leverage to hoist myself back up to at least a semi-upright position. Would I rather be unfeeling or only slightly feeling, though? My answer is no. I would not. I’ll take it all. Because it means I am living fully (aka beautifully), all while being perfectly imperfect. And learning and growing. I wouldn’t give up one minute of ANY of it. *whispering*: Not one.
I will notice something is slightly “off” about someone, even when they are trying to pretend everything is perfectly normal. Not to mention, I get a “nudge” to contact someone and then I quite often get the reply, “I was just thinking about you!” I never force myself on any person, but I might squeeze them or rub their shoulders or run my hand across their back - just some kind of touch to let them know I am there, and it’s just right for her. Because she can’t exactly talk to me right then without puddling (which I totally get), but I will always check in with her several times and touch her meaningfully and intentionally. She knows she has someone she can talk with if and when she needs it. Yep, you probably noticed I switched from talking about “anyone” to “her.” Of course - because sometimes I am the person I need to squeeze.
Back to that afternoon, pretty soon, we were all caught up in those feelings and were ALL crying together and talking and sharing with each other, being authentic and vulnerable and lovely. It was a powerful, POWERFUL, moment, with two of my darling, sweet, beautiful, and also very tender friends.
And, naturally, we ended on a sweet note and some laughing. You know the kind of laughter I mean? It’s a pity if you don’t. Bolen describes it beautifully, “It is in laughter that we share our courage and know that we are survivors…The kind of laughter that resembles an orgasm; the laughter is uncontrolled and pleasurable, there is a physiological release, followed by well-being, and a sense of being spent…what I see most is the instantaneous sharing that dissolves isolation and celebrates life.”
We were dissolving isolation and celebrating life together in those moments. Mmmmmm…
Dissolving isolation.
Celebrating life.
These are the kinds of moments that make my heart so, so full. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it now and again in the future, likely: I love being a woman. For moments exactly like these. It is in the moments where life is just flowing through you, it's what being a woman is naturally about. We were letting life in, moving through and with it, and celebrating it, and we were doing it together!
Here’s the thing. Number one. Another woman shared how I am a light to her. Totally not something you get to know every day. I find people do not share this type of thing. I was reading yet another Goddess’ post that same day and saw a quote that stuck with me for its message, but also because the way it rubbed against my heart when I had had such a day. “Be the woman you wished you had in your own life. YOU are THAT woman to someone else.” (emphasis and caps are mine) Right? Bears repeating. “BE the woman you wished you had in your own life. You are that woman to someone else.”
My friend had given me that gift that day, while, at the same time, told me that she had learned that from me. This particular friend shares ALL the time that she learns things from me. Whoa! These kinds of moments and things are exactly what having my girlfriends is all about. We have fun and we laugh and talk about ALL the things, and yes, we cry together, and hold each other. Closely. And tightly. Mmm. Having friends, for me, means sharing your life with someone. That bears repeating, too, because I also find this is more and more rare. Having friends means you are sharing your lives with each other. I’ll write it again: Dissolving Isolation. And…Celebrating. Life. Together. The more I say it and write it, the more it sounds like the perfect recipe for building love. Well, no wonder. It fell on the right person’s heart. Because I happen to be an excellent chef. So, jot that down.
This whole story makes me think of the “Red Tent” days of the past. You know what I love the most about it? It was meant as an exclusionary practice, because women were considered unclean during the shedding of our blood from our Sacred wombs. Tsk, tsk. It was the ripest time for women to be together, it’s where we came into our power of together, a community of women supporting each other and sharing wisdom, increasing our collective and individual potency. Mmmm!!!! Fucking gorgeous. We need more of those moments, and these ones, too!
The right someones will listen with rapt attention and those same someones will share openly and freely, too. When you mix all that sharing, emotions, “I love yous,” and beauty in an alchemy pot, you do, indeed, create something gorgeous, rich, full, and long-lasting.
That also means I get to be my whole self and they get to be their whole selves, too. There is no judgement, no criticism, no harsh words or thoughts, no veils or shrouds. Just tender Souls loving and supporting each other (dissolving isolation), baring their Souls for and with each other. Listening. Sharing their whole self, every last thing. And then giving yourself over to being held fully.
Surrender.
I surrender.
I surrendered my heart to these two beautiful women in this moment (though there are, of course, others). To these moments. It was SUCH a lovely moment, that it made all three of us cry. And then it was even more beautiful.
Since this event, another two of my beautiful and sweet and tender friends have come to me separately and shared with me how they see me (and have watched me grow) and how that has affected and influenced them and how they have changed from it. Whoa. I am blown away. It is a very small, small sample size, but I am hopeful. Hopeful that I am making an impact in the world, even in a small way. And very thankful and blessed and humbled by the thought that I might be the woman someone else needed. Whoa, indeed! Little, old me. It makes me giggle with the craziness of that thought and reduce into a puddle at the same time.
Talk about beauty! It gives me the absolute full body chills just thinking about these moments. I hope someone reaches out to you today and surrenders their feelings to you. I hope YOU surrender everything else you are holding to that moment, to being present and receiving that gift of all gifts and that you hold it, and them, with all the reverence you can conjure and, if the moment warrants it, tell that person what he or she said meant to you and why. Finally, I pray that you see the beauty of those moments and that it brings warmth to your heart and, yes, perhaps even a tear to your eye.
Seems like a great place for a poem:
imagine (Chapata)
a love that we don’t have to define. a love that we don’t have to attach a title to. a love that we let blossom and just exist.
a love brought together by the love that we have for ourselves already. a love that adds on to the colorful pieces we have already.
a love with no pressure. a love that flows. a love that only requires you to show up, with no mask or disguises, as yourself.
a love that opens its mouth to profess its existence. a love that never hides. a love that is immune to pride and ego.
a love that pours honey on your flaws and scars and shows you how beautiful they are. a love that always brings you home.
*whispering* Yes, please! I just may cry again! Please, let me always be this kind of love for, to, and with others, and especially with my friends.
The other beautiful thing about this story that I realize now, in hindsight, is that it occurred just as I was headed deeper into the darkness for a lesson. THIS, what I wrote above, was my sendoff “party,” in a way. I didn’t know it then, but I do now. It was actually perfection in that moment. Because I was feeling tender and vulnerable, likely because I was entering that critical lesson and darkness phase (and embracing my grieving) and what I really needed was to engage and intertwine with some other tender hearts, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, before I entered into solitude and darkness.
And now, having learned the lesson, you can be sure that I have been seeking out those same things once more, so that I can re-engage with life, dissolve any isolation, and celebrate, especially because of the lesson. Just in time for spring, when the whole world comes alive and the light expands. Timing, as they say, is everything. Just as I type this at dawn on a particular morning, I looked outside to the rising sun, and noticed the fog was rolling in. Perfection, indeed! Life is chaotic and beautiful, the timing is impeccable, and I am full of gratitude and wonder and love.
Here’s a synchronistic event relevant to this story. The day I wrote these last two paragraphs, I happened to be in library with my work loves and the beautiful librarian, who is a darling friend, read these books to the kids, and I couldn’t help but think of my morning devotional/reflection time (and ps, I have another even more darling, amazing and, yes, lovely friend who also works in the library-the one who leaves me love notes):
Right here, right now, in this moment, these words are spreading an urgent feeling throughout my body and bringing those tiny pricks of tears to my eyes. This, everything above, THIS is what matters in life. It. Means. Everything. And, therefore, this song fits…I absolutely LLLLOOOOVVEEEE this version of it. In fact, when I watch it, it is SO beautiful in its hope and darkness and pouring out, the shifting between dark and light and then the rising up, those tears in my eyes overtake the boundaries of my lids and spill onto my cheeks to nourish them. In this lovely moment, of all moments, it occurs to me what else are cheeks for, if not to be the catcher of tears and to be nourished by them?
So, then, that (and this whole post), too, begs the question why would anyone, ANYONE, hold back their tears? Let them come. Look at all the beauty of them. Do it for the sake of your cheeks, the collector of tears, if for no other reason. But also, think of all the strength you are building in your beautiful heart and Soul. *whispering* And, then…in that moment…let me or someone else be your oar.
Thanks for being here and reading. I have faith you are of a good and open heart. Be that person that someone needs today. And everyday. Find someone to surrender to, dissolve isolation for both of you and celebrate life together (some giggles that resemble an orgasm wouldn’t hurt, either - tee hee!). Above all, remember I love you. XO
Good morning, Danielle.
A poem I wrote recently:
Trampolines
Phil, April 2024
Life bounces like Ben next door, as he leaps and flips on a backyard trampoline.
Like peach blossoms that burst from bulging buds come day and retreat at night.
Like bubbles popping one by one to the surface of a ferment-scented poolish.
But the dark side’s alive in these similes, like in life. Will Ben fly too far,
landing hard, head kissing the rocky ground? Will a May hard frost dash hopes
for peaches swimming in cream? Will the dough flatten? Will life plummet?
A life ricochets, shoots along a manic roller coaster, soaring up
through stratospheric elation, diving down to delusional depths of despair,
out of control, possessed by an angelic, demonic, bipolar, rapscallion.
A brain swirls, like a seductive siren twirling in an A-line, V-neck dress,
dizzy with delight, who collapses, spent, dejected, undesired, alone.
A poet poises at a precipice, preps, then trampolines away to a primal poem.
.
Definition of poolish for those who are free from baking bread: a highly fluid yeast-cultured dough. It's a type of pre-ferment traditionally used in the production of French bakery products.