I don’t believe in any gods.
I don’t pray to any ethereal anyone. I don’t really a pray at all. But I do believe in karma. I believe that what goes around comes around. And I believe in magic. I believe in the possibility for love to win out against logic, I believe that once in a blue moon – likely when we least expect it and can’t explain it and most definitely don’t deserve it – the wand will wave in our favor.
So it is when tragedy strikes, somehow magic happens. It happens over dried up tears and sleepless nights and reheated bowls of home cooked meals. It happens when you’re so obliterated by pain and grief that you barely take notice. But it happens. And it’s magical. And it’s this:
When the universe throws a sucker punch, somebody somewhere will step up and throw you a lifeline. And that is no small thing.
The ability for a humble, flawed, imperfect human being to mend another’s mess, will never cease to amaze me. I’m not talking about the grand gesture, hopelessly romantic, once in a lifetime kind of love that breaks hearts and connects souls. I’m talking about the kind of love that arises between those we haven’t promised our lives to, for better or worse. The ones who owe us nothing and somehow step up and give us exactly everything we need to get by.
It isn’t often that we are stripped raw enough to let ourselves really be loved on. Not in my experience anyway. But when our world is shattered someone else receives a rare opportunity to rise up, and we owe it to the universe to let them have their moment. No matter how broken you are, no matter how long it takes you to realize it, you will notice the ones who step up and let go – gracelessly, hastily, maybe – of the ones who don’t. Because in those moments energy is too sacred to sustain grudges. It’s only when we’re laid wide open that we can see with any clarity those whom we’re willing to stand beside when shit hits the fan.
What I know now is this: you find your people are when you’re so broken you can barely breathe. And my god, there is magic in that moment.
It feels like it may take a lifetime of to ever live my way whole again. The truth is, I can’t ever imagine not feeling this weight heavy on my heart, steeling my breath, and blurring my vision. But I have lived just long enough to know that it will fade. Not every day will hurt so hard; I won’t always feel so raw. So when that day comes, however unforeseen and utterly under-appreciated it may be, my hope for that day is this:
May I have the grace to open my eyes in the midst of being blindsided. May I appreciate the rising and falling of overwhelm and notice the sanctuary of open arms. Might I lean into the community that rises up around me, might I lean into their love just long enough to slip slowly back towards grace even in the midst of grief. Might I let this magic mend me, however slowly, and then when the day comes when it doesn’t hurt so hard might I create the same magic in the wake of another’s devastation. Might I pay it forward.