I’m not going to lie. It’s been a rough couple of weeks around here. My heart has been working really hard to let itself break when another piece of me wants to keep on truckin. It takes a lot of courage to let ourselves feel the pain of any given heartbreak, of any given misfortune. I’m trying to be courageous. I feel fortunate to have John and True as beacons of light.
Lacy posted this manifesto today over on our Facebook page and it it caught me by surprise to see my words reflected back at me at a time when I really need them. I read each and every line, slowly, taking in the truths, one inhale and exhale at a time. I’m certain I must have written this manifesto as a premonition to what I’d need at this exact moment, months later.
While getting my Masters in Social Work all those years ago they used to tell us that we should never tell someone it’s going to be okay, and I suppose that’s actually quite true. We don’t actually know if it’s going to be okay for someone else and we shouldn’t give misguided hope. But, I don’t know, sometimes my heart really needs to hear the concreteness of it’s going to be okay, you are going to be okay, your spirit will be okay, and you’re going to survive.
And while all that assurance is happening, I’d also love to hear that I can surrender my fear and I’ll still be okay. That I can embrace the uncertainty. And that I’ll still be okay. That I can completely fall apart and take my time and feel the circling of darkness. That I can feel sorry for myself and perhaps have an all out crisis of faith. And even then, I’ll still be okay. And then I’d really like to hear that through it all, one day, I’ll emerge softer, wiser, more beauty-full.
Because even in the dark I know this to be true: Eventually Hope rises up to meet us. It cracks open our hearts to the light within ourselves waiting to be seen, to be born again.
I’m going to be okay. And for those of you struggling, you’re spirit is going to be okay, too.