The Stories, Oh The Stories

I just got off the phone with someone whom I call for spiritual guidance and marveling at how when the stories that are in my head come out of my mouth, my world breathes a little easier with a little friendlier light and structure.  Especially the stories that separate me from other human beings - so... most of them... ahhh... reminders that the truth lies in the unity of the human spirit and on the most beautiful days I can see, feel, touch and taste it.  The times when the light within others and myself is so incredibly obvious, so awesomely apparent so tragically opposed to the fear I can propel myself on that tears group behind my eyes and I see the truth.  Gorgeous, insane, connected unity with all things.  Feeling grateful for both the light and the dark, the sunshine and the judgment.  I choose to radiate today. 

"He Hid In a Closet"

"Don't worry, he's safe. He hid in a closet." That's what my family friend said when she was keeping everyone updated about her son's status at the STEM school shooting yesterday. I don't know why but this particular phrase has been haunting me. A well spring of tears and few words, my chest feels heavy like a steel girder was placed there thoughtfully. "Don't worry, he's safe. He hid in a closet." The pain and terror emanating in those last five words - not steeling myself to the sadness and anger has been refreshing. My jaw feels like it could pop off, like it's a separate part of my body and moves as if it were a rusty hinge. "he hid in a closet." For an eleven year old to hide in a closet at school because his school is under siege by one of its own... it's beyond unfair. It's unconscionable. As I breathe, I am trying to milk words from my body, for my brain to form a thought based on my current experience and all I can think is "he hid in a closet."