It’s not that we don’t know how.
It’s that in between the plan in our head and the movement of our hands
Stands our heart
The one that beats, holds space for all we are, and gives direction.
It carries the tears that haven’t been wept,
the sorrows that haven’t been held,
the hurts discarded as irrelevant,
the loss of words, people and places,
the failures and not coming back from’s.
It doesn’t judge, put aside or neglect. It has room for all.
Shame, sorrow and grief are all invited to the party.
If our sad emotions came up as party girls on a Saturday night,
We wouldn’t let them in. We would bounce them off without a glimpse.
Leave them cold on the sidewalk on a winter night, freezing in their short skirts and stilettos.
Missing out on their innate power to revive the whole room,
and truly get the party started.
Because the distance between a plan and its manifestation
is how much room we allow for the emotions that show up.
All of them. Without distinction.
Everyone’s welcome to the party