any and all

any and all

Tonight we talked about Covid. Briefly. Very briefly.

We were led into a meditation about darkness, more specifically, the darkness that lingers long after its anticipated dissipation; one month, two months, a year or more.

In my personal environment the scent of eucalyptus wafted through the room. I’d chosen it because it was closest to my hand at the time I’d decided aromatherapy was in order. The meditation led me to think about a woman I once visited, who now is passed.

I’d filled her room with the sound of harps and the scent of Melissa. It made her cry. She said the scent hurt her skin and reminded her of her mother. I’d yet to put my hands on her so at her tears felt horrified that I’d instigated a painful experience or memory.

When it was my turn to share I told the group how she’d talked about the sound of gardening, the fire in her fireplace, her mothers chair that I was sitting in, the greeting cards on her wall and the reassurance that she especially enjoyed one specific hand movement I’d employed upon her back.

I’m not positive but feel that she may have been the first to teach me the power of presence and the value of releasing manipulation of another’s space. It turned out that I’d need both of those lessons reinforced, so found that need met the same year she passed away.

Whenever accepting the role of support, it’s inevitable that I find myself on the receiving end. No matter how much of ourselves we attempt to give, I hope we always receive more than we’re able to readily pour back into mankind because it’s that kind of abundance that fuels the heart with unwavering faith in the face of any and all adversity.

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