a healer
has the bravery
to use their experiences
of recovery and move in
harmony with the universe
for the benefit of many
-yung pueblo
Avery’s music album came into the world two weeks ago. Over that time, we’ve heard from people who are listening…
“My beloved struggles with regulating her emotions, and your album calms her down.”
“My beloved died of COVID, and I needed your uncluttered songs to soothe me.”
“My beloved is in recovery and your message is what she needs to hear.”
“I am sick, and your songs are literally healing me.“
“My highly sensitive daughter belts out the lyrics in the shower.”
“Your 13-year-old heart speaks words my 41-year-old heart can’t convey.”
Let’s remember where this music came from: pain, uncertainty, struggle, challenge. Avery didn’t set out to record an album; she went to her place of peace to cope with health challenges, and what came forth was music with universal themes of human struggle.
God bless the pain sharers,
the scar barers,
and those who pen lyrics for pain relief.
“I’m here to live life; it’s not over yet,” Avery sings.
Before I moved away from a beloved community six years ago, my friend Julia placed her hand on my arm and said, “Those who support so many others need support too.”
I carried those words for six years until I finally embraced them as mine.
“I need help,” I said out loud six weeks ago.
A week later, I talked to a helper.
One of the first things she said after I spilled the specifics of my pain was, “This takes courage… this is brave of you.”
I’d said those words so many times to other people. Hearing them said to me brought a flood of tears.
“By the way… how did you find me?” my helper asked when we decided to talk again the following week.
“I Googled the words of my struggle with the name of my city. It brought me to your site where your experience echoed mine. I felt safe and hopeful when I read your words.”
“That gave me chills,” the helper said, a crack of emotion coming through her voice.
Let’s remember where this connection came from: pain, uncertainty, struggle, challenge. My helper didn’t set out to support people in their healing process—she started healing herself, and it became her life’s work.
God bless the pain sharers,
the scar barers
and those who turn pain into purpose.
“So, I’ll try to say, I can do this anyway. I’ll be okay,” Avery sings.
Each week, when I meet with my helper, we begin the same way. We get quiet and breathe. Once I clear my mind of the noise and expectation, she asks:
“What are you needing right now?”
I write down the answer in my journal in front of me.
At first, the answer was hard to hear; it literally screamed at me; it sounded desperate and manic, and tears instantly came forth because the question was so long overdue.
Each week, it gets a little easier to hear my deepest needs.
“You don’t have to tell me what you wrote,” my helper says. “But you can if you want to.”
I always tell her; it feels good to have someone listen; it feels good to listen to myself.
After our appointment, I go back and look at the statements in my journal. I notice I do not feel ashamed. I wonder what these umet needs might become as they are fulfilled. A ray of hope breaks through the dark cloud above me.
Let’s remember where this hope came from: pain, uncertainty, struggle, challenge. I did not set out to abandon myself, but there is no time limit on learning to love, even the most broken parts of ourselves.
God bless the pain sharers,
the scar barers,
and those who speak unspeakable pain, so we are not alone in ours.
“Tell me why we think we aren’t enough,” Avery sings.
I wanted to gift something special to my friend who’s seen me through all four books I have written. From the time they are merely ideas in my heart to the moment they are physically held in people’s hands, my friend has been there.
While reviewing a draft of LIVE LOVE NOW, she confided that I’d helped her hear her Dreamer girl’s wish to learn to play the harmonica. I researched until I found the best set of harmonicas. I took them to an engraver so each one could hold a book title.
When the engraver was finished, I saw a misspelling.
“It’s not ruined,” the engraver assured, motioning me back behind the counter to the complex machinery.
Country music played softly from the nearby radio as the machine worked its magic in the man’s rugged hands.
“See?” he said cheerfully, holding up the redeemed harmonica. “Not ruined!”
Before wrapping the gift up, I marveled at the set of harmonicas, each instrument holding three sacred words that represented thousands of sacred moments and transformative breakthroughs over the past decade of my life.
Let’s remember where this gift came from: pain, uncertainty, stress, struggle. I did not set out to write four books; I set out to choose love over distraction and the journey was not meant for me alone.
God bless the pain sharers,
the scar barers,
and those who stick with us through life’s most challenging endeavors.
“Because we all learn from our mistakes,” Avery sings.
On the day Avery’s album released, a member of the Hands Free community tagged me in an Instagram post by Charles Mackesy and wrote, “For Avery…”
The caption read:
‘Is it ruined?'
Charlie Mackesy
‘No' said the mole, ‘look at the music, it often comes through where things are broken.”
As tears flooded my eyes, I ran upstairs to my bedroom where the book, The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse has sat since my mom gave it to me for Christmas. How could I have missed this page? I wondered, quickly flipping through each page to find the one with the music.
After three times through, it was clear that page, that message, was not in the book. It was created for today, and it provided me with the final piece needed to deliver this personal note at this exact moment in time:
Dear ones, we are at the midpoint of 2020 –
177 days in, 188 to go.
It’s tempting to look at the calendar boxes of our lives and focus solely on the stains, spills, rips, cancelations, derailments, and upheavals and think to ourselves: It is ruined. It’s all ruined …
And in our darkest moments, as I can attest, we might even be tempted to think, I am ruined. I am all ruined.
But in the manic screams and the middle-of-the-night angst, IF WE LISTEN CLOSELY, something is coming through the brokeness…
It’s a song.
It’s a declaration.
It’s a promise.
It’s a question.
It’s an answer.
It’s a step.
It’s an awakening.
Dear ones, I beg you —
Please don’t shut your eyes.
Please don’t plug your ears.
Please don’t harden your heart.
Listen
Look
See
Believe
It is not ruined.
YOU are not ruined.
You are courageous and brave, and you are here, despite all the ways 2020 has tried to derail you.
And as you seek to ease your own pain, you may ease the pain of someone else.
“Where did this come from?” the grateful recipient will one day say.
And we will remember this moment – the messy midpoint of 2020 – when you made the brave choice to keep looking for the ray of sun breaking through the clouds.
God bless the pain sharers,
the scar barers,
and those who choose to see what can be salvaged after the storm.
“My heart and my soul stay with me,” Avery sings.
My friends, every summer, I step away from my blog and my social media accounts for about a month to live without pressure to produce and respond. This important practice is especially crucial now as I make space and time for both my mental health journey and my anti-racism journey to which I am deeply committed. I would be eternally grateful if you continue to read and share my work in my absence. If you have been planning to purchase my new release, LIVE LOVE NOW, now would be a good time. It is currently 30% off here and 26% off here. My other works-of-heart are: HANDS FREE MAMA, HANDS FREE LIFE, and ONLY LOVE TODAY. My family and I are deeply grateful for those who have purchased my books as well as Avery’s album, ENOUGH. She immensely enjoyed doing the Facebook Live mini concert and would like to do another one with you when I return. My hand in yours, RMS. I love you.
Thank you so much for this. It was something I really needed today. I have had some struggles lately and a few days ago, I took “Only Love Today” to one of my special “soul landscape” places in town and read my favorite parts–including the words you wrote to me when we met in Phoenix. This book and all of the rest are so important to me and such a precious gift. I hope you have a wonderful month off and find rest and restoration. We’ll all be here when you get back!
Much love to you, dear Beth. Thank you for always being with me.
This is a profound post, and your process and conclusion are also profound.
This line stood out to me: “I always tell her; it feels good to have someone listen; it feels good to listen to myself.” Powerful. Connection with others and connection with self. These are imbedded in – and central to – healthy connection with God too… making it all the more powerful.
I also love how you model what you teach – and that you step away from social media and blogging in the summer. That’s inspiring and so helpful. Sot thank you for that. I also write in the “cell + soul” realm (as in, put down your cell, prioritize your soul) space, and I’m grateful to have you as a model and example.
This is so beautiful, Susan! Thank you for taking time to share this and walk beside me.