My phone rings, over and over again and I answer again and again and again.
The voice, a voice that I do not connect with visually, as this is a person that I have not met, begins to speak. Sometimes hesitantly, sometimes apologetically, sometimes hysterically upset, sometimes graciously, sometimes in so much pain that only breathless wimpering comes through, and on and on.
The human condition in despair and confusion and fear, needing to communicate.
For years I have held this position of listening. What I have gleaned is that often our deepest, most articulate, honest sharing is in the lap of a faceless person. A person who has no role our life and we have no role in theirs, a person who is not going to advise, a person who does not judge, a person who is neutral, a person who is a kind stranger, a person who holds still and listens.
People call me a grief counselor but I do not counsel.
I am often asked ‘What do you do? What do you say?”
I cannot answer this anymore than I can answer what I am thinking when I walk up my bluff, or stir a cup of tea, or watch the clouds out over the sea.
I am alive in the moment with my presence when I am alone, and I am alive in the moment that another human being is on the other end of my phone.
I respond accordingly, but not in any way that I can report in on as the sharing is often so intimate and the dance between two humans energetically in such a moment is intertwined, hence impossible to share with others.
What the world needs now is love.
What humans beings need now is each other.
Love and healing go together.