I asked August if she had any parting words and she nodded yes and spoke:
“Yes, I do. Let me tell you. The heat rose and the sun casted shadows over you. I hope you saw the messages I left for you. Please don’t hide under the umbrella of small or wish you were different. Comparison is a bully. What they have you wish for, but do you? Do you really know you are tall in that way that spreads wings for all? It’s not conceited or rude to be the truer you.
Nice is fine, fine, fine but really when you’ve had enough of their abuse, show them what have you. If they leave, it’ll be okay. The strength I see in you holds universes. I have watched you for decades and this season you are ready to heed your calls. Don’t let them beat you down or restrict you; instead close your eyes and listen to the splendor of dreams within dreams. Those very etchings are the blood stains of your truths.
Trust you as you would trust seasons and river those openings to seaways. Seek the silence that becomes you and yet please don’t hide away all day. Gifts are meant to be given. And before I leave, I’m so glad you asked. I’ve been waiting for you and September stands with arms open wider than wide. You’ll be held. I promise you. Sweet blessings as summer fades. A new year always rises as autumn welcomes you.”
I was summoned to this very spot when I caught sight of the hot, hot sun setting over a burnt grey sky where a winged shawl of angels repeated, “Let the hurt be seen.”
There beneath this oracle a hemline of trees was a chorus of protectors. And I knew it was safe as I felt the celestial fire rock me slowly to the left and circle me holy to the right; held in that pure space between sun and earth and the curve before day turns night.
Amen. Amen. Amen.
If I say to you, “how wrong you are in everything you do” sadly you’ll start to believe it.
If in turn, I repeat with sincerity you are creative, intelligent, beautiful, kind, diverse and real – my hope is you’ll start to believe it.
And with this fuel of self-acceptance you’ll translate the former assaults into gardens of seeing others who need to hear,
“You are creative, intelligent, beautiful, kind, diverse and real.”
My hope grows fuller for this to be repeated as vast as the sun and moon stretches over this very earth until we all believe it.
I spoke to Tired this morning and she answered in the same language as when air feels heavy right before a deep slow rain. We spent some time there talking about what is this Tired? And she replied, “It is more than being sleep deprived. It is more than a nap will fix. It is the lack of deeper connections. It’s where the soul weeps. Tired is tired of the clichéd. The glossing over, the petty advice, the assumptions and intellectualizing. Tired is tired of the repetitive worldly abuses. Tired is a cross-funnel of empathy overload. Tired is sadness at the heavy demands.
She continued, “I don’t have the ‘right’ words for this moment but let me sing to you.” And so, she did. It was a love song for hearts to mend when ready, pain to be seen, unfairness to be heard, strife to be witnessed, the poor to be fed, history to teach, agedness respected, differences acknowledged, hate crimes ended. Her song is still going with my heart pressed against her hand.
This is what I know…
Stay near to the twitch and tremors of nature’s voice as trees speak through the footpads of earth’s song.
Stay close to the ancient ways of solitude. No one can take that from you.
Trust your heart for she knows the path.
Protect yourself from those who steal your kindness.
Keep your inner circle small and safe. Let go of those who violate.
Notice how the wind answers the leaves and watch how the parched land drinks her rain so freely.
Find sustenance in spirit’s flexibility.
Keep open and listen and pause deeply into the reservoir of your fullest passions.
‘Art’ yourself. ‘Write’ yourself. ‘Speak’ yourself.
Become the dreams of your call.
Feel into the medicine of your struggles: the anxiety of a thousand wild horses, a century of depression’s sinkholes of silence.
Follow your addictions to where they may lead and ask what is lonely, bored, hungry, tired?
What are these signals trying to feed?
Above all, lovingly support the processes of your innermost needs and take heed to where they lead you and then soar.
Carolyn Riker is a Licensed Mental Health Counselor (LMHC) in private practice. She is also an author of three books. Her most recent book is "My Dear, Love Hasn't Forgotten You."