This morning, a group of extraordinary women gathered on a one hour call. I was gifted to be part of that small community. During the call I shared a quotation from Terry Tempest Williams, and I'll repeat it here:
" . . . I am not married to sorrow. I just choose not to look away. And I think there is deep beauty in not averting our gaze. No matter how hard it is, no matter how heartbreaking it can be. It is about presence. It is about bearing witness. I used to think bearing witness was a passive act. I don't believe that anymore. I think that when we are present, when we bear witness, when we do not divert our gaze, something is revealed--the very marrow of life. We change. A transformation occurs. Our consciousness shifts."
We each offered our voices, in answer to the question, "What is present for your right now?" The responses ranged from despair to gratitude. What I loved is that no one hid behind a facade. They presented their current state of feeling and thought. That takes courage. The root of that word "courage" is "coeur," the French word for heart. It shows great trust to open our heart of others. Those who opened their hearts to us today gave the rest of the group a huge gift. We were able to stand witness to the sorrows and fears of others, and in doing so, as Terry Tempest Williams says, we change.
For so many years, I felt I needed to be "together" when I was in a leadership role with a group. Beyond that, even in conversations with friends, I put on the finished face. After many years of hiding my own brokenness, it started to pop out despite my best intentions! Now I know that I did my friends and colleagues a disservice when I hid my vulnerability, when I refused to let them see the parts of me that were messy, unfinished, or just plain ugly. I did them an injustice, and I also prevented myself from receiving the gifts they would so willingly have offered.
I think our times call for a sort of radical honesty and vulnerability. If we can be open to each other in this way, maybe we can learn to trust our strength, and to use our wings again. I invite you to share your thoughts here. Let's talk about these things, and lets come together again and again, to stand in high witness to each other. We can stand in witness, and say "I see you" to the friend who wants to hide. "I see you, and your essence is love and perfection. Come, let's walk together." Seeing and being seen.
If you are feeling that your wings are damaged these days, and flight is impossible,I invite you to listen again to the song that inspired this site, Eric Whitacre's Fly to Paradise. Click here to visit the virtual choir he created singing this song. We are stronger than we know.
Thank you, Tricia for making space for us to connect, reflect and be present for each other yesterday. I was one who chose to stay hidden in the shadows during our gathering, feeling like I had nothing to give to the group. With my microphone muted and my video turned off, I listened to the brave voices of the wise women in our circle. It was only when prompted, that I shared my "messy, unfinished" self. Full of disjointed thoughts and fearful half sentences, I timidly stepped into the light (of the camera, of the love in the "room," of my own knowing), and was listened to, held, and witnessed. Thanks to all those present, I turned a corner. Choosing…
I just put the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle in. What a feeling of satisfaction and pride and calm washed over me. Then I saw the hole where one piece went missing. A fleeting thought of...that sucks, it's not complete. And then I smiled and laughed because I know in my bones that incomplete is perfect, or imperfect is complete.
I listened to two Brene Brown podcasts while puzzling. I highly recommend her most recent project of love and vulnerability. It's called Unlocking Us. I listened to her intervithe founder of the Me Too movement and was moved by what she shared of empathy. How important it is to be seen and the precursor to being seen is bein…