There is a season of the soul
When a friend
Wants us to help them remember everything
It is a cosmic scene
Where we must give our real self
To someone else’s real self
There is a depth of gifting in the giving
As two strands of humanity
Are braided together
In this closeness
The tears of our friend are heard
As if our very own
And in our desire to love well
To get the balance right
We go to our very own marrow
As the yearning for connection is so strong
And our sum and substance cries out for exchange
It is the giving of the real
That makes the exchange come alive
As we become fearless in the loving
Willing to error in the direction of connection
Even if we must harvest our deepest parts
All the while asking
Will it hurt?
Will I be frightened?
No matter……
It is an honor
For when the language of self
Or any need for personal protection
Begins to empty
We make our way to each other’s souls
Admit our sorrow and the awareness of everything we are not
And begin to listen
Truly listen
For only in the most vulnerable agreement
Will this deep continue its outpouring
For now my friend is ready
Not just for the mere acceptance of the end
But a readiness to come home to everything
As he discovers
The gift of grief carries a message
And it is this……
No one is ever emptied of life
For the message is from the hovering Presence saying
”You are and always have been the beloved”