These two words have been my intimate companions for the past nine months.
I have reached out to them in the middle of nights, at the beginning of days, in the forest, on the beach and in my car.
I have reached out to them when I have known that my little human mind and my big human heart were no match for what was needed.
I have reached out to them when I was afraid to not be smart enough, tough enough to find my way on my own.
And I have been guided. So beautifully.
Guided to say “no more.”
Guided to get on planes, cabs, motorcycles and buses.
Guided to go and guided to stay.
Guided to break and guided to mend.
Guided to love, too.
Guided to share meals, my heart and my home.
To let go of what I have loved, to let go of what made sense and to welcome the wobbly unknown, the barely formed soft-fleshed of what will be.
There is a restfulness to being guided and I know that Rest is part of our healing.
SCARED OF THE SACRED