Be the light.

Digging down a bit, processing in prose, some images, themes and feelings from my recent weeks, and stories from friends and colleagues who’ve been struggling.
(If we’ve spoken recently friend, know that I’m thinking of you.)
How do you react when your peace is threatened?
How do you calm the fear in someone’s eyes when they’re afraid?
Each of us hits a fucking wall of emotional exhaustion at our own limit, in our time.
Sometimes, it’s a major disaster in a very bad year.
Sometimes, it’s dark, scared moments in your head in any given month, where nobody else can see.
For some, loss is a way of life, like the pain and pace of a marathon hike.
For others, loss is a looping internal pain, a black hole to be repeatedly filled and emptied, or avoided.
We’re each of us incomplete, finite, looking for something external to fulfill us.
We’ve all had loss. We all share some truths, and maybe we see them, and maybe not.

Happiness and love are the light source you cannot see.
Light itself is invisible: it can only be seen by its effect on other things.
Sunlight lights up pollen and swirls of dust in its beams, reflecting the path to light the way.
“Got to be an Invisible Sun. Gives its heat to everyone.”

So, my best advice is to be the light.
Don’t worry about not knowing what to say in some crucial moment.
Don’t worry about being shone on yourself, being lit up by the embarassing frailty of your heart.
We all have that. Nobody is any less scared than you are.
Be a way to help someone else shine, even if it’s just by being comforting company – a presence, a companion.
Bear witness, lend a hand, an arm, a shoulder, a hug, a kiss.
Be the light, the warmth, that the moment needs.
Help others find their way, and your own path will never be unlit.