How to hold your suffering friend: the components of hope.

 

At my most broken (open) and disintegrating, my friends revived me with steady doses of hope. This medicine was dispensed in three forms:

They reminded me of my strength—and theirs.
They pointed me to Spirit.
They made me laugh.
Bonus: They helped with the basics.

They reminded me of my strength—and theirs.
Candis, Christina, Joshua, Karis, Lee-Anne… all reminded me how strong I had been in the past, and that I could build on that. “You have it in you, and there’s more where that came from.” My sages stepped up. Anne, B, Hiro: “Oh love, this is a living death. I’ve died before. You will most definitely rise.”

The morphogenic field is pulsing with resilience.

They pointed me to Spirit.
Michelle and I walked, while mostly I talked, untangling my pain with each loop around the lake. I was a hot mess of conflicted desire. My immune system was crashing. My conversations with Creation had turned into pleadings. “God wants for your joy,” said Michelle. And that was a revelatory, holy instant. “Well that changes everything, doesn’t it?” I laughed-cried. Everything.

They made me laugh.
Chela is ocean-deep wise. She’s also a raunchy broad with superlative sarcasm. I left my retreat center cell, picked up some beet burgers, and curled up on her sofa to talk about anxiety; my bonafide existential crisis; and that tall, dark, zillionaire who made me swoon, but was now undeniably bad for me. Chela breaks in, “Total loser underachiever. You need to fuck a guy who wears shiny pants.” “Shiny pants” is code for “one-night-stand with someone you wouldn’t want even your friends to know about.” #longerstory #justwhatineeded #stilllaughing

They helped with the basics.
Converse, cry, rest. Repeat. My mom did the emotional loop with me, and when I napped on the living room floor, she cleaned the kitchen. Hearing each dish being placed in the cupboard, I felt like my emotions were being put into a manageable order.

Dolly left soup on my porch. Steph made apple crisp in my kitchen. Andrew brought vegan mac n’ cheese.

. . . . .

We can’t rescue someone from their lessons. And it can be arrogant to assume what another soul is here to learn. And though we’d willingly head into the flames to retrieve our friend, their personal hell is very… personal. It’s our job to embody hope on behalf of our suffering people.

Speak to them of their strength, and yours. Crack the best possible joke at the worst possible time. And when you drop by to remind them that the cosmos and nature are conspiring in their favour, bring food.

With Love,

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