When life hurts, go there. FEEL it.
Write about it. Sing about it. Scream about it.
CRY about it. For sure, if you can, cry about it.
Isolate for as long as you need, if you need - then consider seeking an ear or two.
Maybe a shoulder. Not for advice, mostly for sacredness.
For the sacredness that takes place when you can (as my daughter calls it) undress your own heart in front of someone who can take it, who can create that Container.
Trust in the process.
Put to bed for a little nap the voice that says: "this may kill me." It most likely won't.
Then go back.
Then take breaks.
The more we allow, the more we go there, the sooner we may feel it:
The Opening that comes, maybe, with understanding.
Maybe with compassion.
Maybe with gratitude.
Maybe with fury.
Definitely with a delicious renewed intimacy with ourselves.
When that Opening comes - and it will - feel that, too.
Watch it do its thing, its spiritual, emotional spring cleaning.
Look at the dust bunnies and love them.
Look at you and love you.
Don't make any big statement - to yourself or to others - that it's over.
That the thunder has passed for good. We all know how sneaky grief is.
But celebrate. Celebrate the clouds opening up. For Now.
You are so beautiful, doing your difficult work, daring to love and daring to feel.
You are so very perfect.
SCARED OF THE SACRED