Friday, August 5, 2011

A Different Kind of Strong

Things are easing up over here after a packed month of holding space for hundreds of people at a time. Let's just say that, at any point in time, you are free to speak the inconvenient truth, let go of annoying pleasantries, and be with the people you naturally gravitate toward. No shame in liking what you like. No point in holding back. There's a wisdom in following the path that's lit naturally before you. A space emerges to embody yourself more fully, more freely. And you are needed--the exact strand and variety of you--no denying it. You'd be amazed at what we can teach each other when we're not afraid to be ourselves.

While breathing room feels nice, there's a certain shade of strength in having no processing time. You just keep going, even though you need to cry, even though you're totally confused, even though you have so many questions. You let it all sink into your soul, into a deep place in your body. And you survive. You become stronger than you ever wanted. And you become more like your new friends than you ever thought possible.

When you finally lose your shit (and you will... we always do), you'll wonder if it's okay that you're sobbing uncontrollably when everyone else appears to be dealing just fine with complete and utter travesty. And then a friend in the midst of loss and love will tell you that you are beautiful for feeling so much and doesn't it feel wonderful to cry? to be so alive? And you will say yes and know that he is right and this is exactly what's needed. Wordlessness. Tears for a thousand and one reasons. Grieving for however long it takes.

You will never solve the "problem" with answers, so you don't look for them in rationale or reason. You let your heart pull you toward your next move and you let your body release how it needs to release. You follow, no matter how tragic or terrifying or tantalizing the path might be. You go all the way with the way it is, because that kind of witnessing is needed more than any solution you could think of.

We're heading to a good friend's house for a few nights of camping on the land under the stars next to the fire, and helping bring a dream of his to life. Looking up, cool grass on my back, I get the feeling that no matter how complicated or sad or only half hopeful things feel, I'm unbelievably blessed to be here, and exactly where I belong.

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