i recently had a conversation with someone i haven’t seen or spoken to in almost fifty years. we held space together on the phone gently, tenderly. for this wasn’t a social call where we spent time reminiscing about lovely memories and silly anecdotes. instead this was a call that transcends mere words, that was opening doors long-closed, turning metaphoric knobs for access into painful times and angst-filled recollections. i was shaking and weepy when i got off the phone, but grateful to have had the chance to meet together on empathetic ground.

there are some doors – that in the turning of the knob, the opening of the door – are most difficult. i am learning – at this time in my life – that these doors, though they make me shudder, even squeamish – are worthy of opening. these doors will eventually lead to the place that will ease the constant butterfly-like-vibration in my chest. these doors will set free the ramifications of all that happened long ago. these doors promise new. they promise perspective born of process. they promise light – granted to the dark of way-earlier life.

this call – like others in recent times – was somewhat excruciating. it was hard to dial up – to open that slammed door. yet, i was grateful to feel the undeniable comfort – coexisting with deep grief – that came in its aftermath. profound.

not alone, understood, we both knew without saying that we ‘got it’ on its most cellular level, the granular place of shared traumatic experience, the inevitable sisterhood beyond the opened closed-door.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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