Empathy Reigns.

In real time, we met again on the flipside of recovery and for this moment forward, I remain forever grateful.

Beyond grateful.

Knees to the floor, grateful.

In my dreams, we met outside the baseball fields where I desperately called you from a payphone and you came to pick me up, bailing me out of yet another institutional stay … only to berate me for falling in love with a gay man just beyond my reach. It wasn’t you that I was focused on at this time but my inner guides pulled my heart in your direction, worried whether or not you could make it out dead or alive without first breathing life into my dreams – the flipside, where manifestation births itself.

But you found your way in.

And here you are, again.

It’s all reminiscent of my first dream about our journey, Anuva. What I saw then is not what I see now.

“It was just a dream, baby,” he consoled her with her hand in his, throwing what was the blood-stained rag in the trash beside her grief that was now overflowing over the shower stall. It seemed as though the more she cried, the faster the white-tiled bathroom floor filled with crystal clear water, rushing through cracks and lapping at their bare feet, now pressed together.

“I thought we lost the baby,” she whispered, whimpering into fresh, crisp-white linen with his hands on hers as she knelled over her throne.

Down on his knees, peeling the towel gently from her face, he pressed his forehead against hers, “It’s going to be okay. It was just a dream within this dream, sweetheart.”

Lady, a white Pomeranian, and Odie, a caramel mixed-breed, danced excitedly around the two with water up to their knees, knowing instinctively that the hope and love beaming from within their hearts was mutually shared between them.

The dream was saturated in white. Bright white. White tile, white water, white linen, white light, white snow, white vans, white houses, majestic white coyotes chasing white mice amongst snow-capped mountain ranges, divine white hawks leading us down snow-covered roads to a place called home, and white-hot, sensual love, welding the yin and yang together at last.

Purity and perfection at its core – white, a symbol for New Beginnings, which, in Russian, is pronounced Anuva; a hotel in which our hope was first conceived.

What I saw then was heartache and pain – a cautionary dream. What I see now is a chnace for healing beyond our scope.

I expressed my concern and unconditional love for our time – past, future, present, to my sisters in my tribe. My dear friend, who happens to be divinely guided and has tapped into realms unseen by either of us, except for my own writing experiences, encouraged me to read my letter over and over again. She didn’t take this prompt from above very lightly.

We have spent many lifetimes together, you and I. Our paths didn’t cross for the time that our flesh became one; it crossed for divine purpose; a purpose that lay at the anchoring points of a tightrope I walk every day between the traditional and unorthodox modalities of treatment, healing, surrender and faith.

It’s not easy walking this razor-thin edge. But hearing confirmations like this raise my faith to step confidently into the bigger picture where pure awareness takes the place of the tight rope beneath my feet.

We share a space. For this, I thank you. For staying alive, I thank you. For crossing my path time and time again, I thank you. For sharing this time and place, I thank you. For healing, I thank you. For allowing recovery to seep deep within, I thank you.

Many ask just as you have, “How can you forgive so easily?” Because I’ve walked in your shoes and you in mine. And let’s not forget the bigger picture here. There is purpose tattooed on our souls. I believe with certainty that we have been branded with the same strokes.

For some time, we walked this path alone out of necessity, willing to blaze new trails that we weren’t even sure would cross. In fact, it never even crossed my mind when I had to say goodbye.

But here we are, meeting again in the dark with a small kindle of flames illuminating all brokenness and decay. All prayer answered. All hope recovered. All fears washed away. Even after death.

Here we are in a space where we are learning to know ourselves so intimately that empathy has no choice to reign and judgement ceases to exist.

The answers always lay in the artwork, manifesting light that will show us our way. May peace be with us as we walk the lines to a future that is still veiled, like the bride.

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