Within these first days of the Summer Solstice I’ve been talking about holding, observing, feeling, and acknowledging the current energies or manifestations of our collective dream together. This is really about holding space for circumstances as they currently are. This means not denying it, not pushing it away, and not bastardizing it, but holding it for what it is right now. It means just holding it gracefully, gently, and lovingly. To do otherwise means a rejection of ourselves as collective creators.
But holding space does not necessarily mean that we agree with the actions that have been taken or that we desire certain actions to continue. It means acknowledging the stories we have created, which have produced particular outcomes or experiences. If we’ve been lucky, we’ve survived many kinds of potentially dangerous and traumatizing stories. We might even be thankful for the experiences in one way or another, even though we would not want to have the story repeated again within our lives.
In close relation to this idea of holding is being held. Being held by another person, group, or entity allows the unconditional validation, worth, and existence of ourselves as beings living on this earth. It also allows our personal stories to be sincerely and tenderly held with a kind of deep emotional understanding and empathy.
Thus to hold is to offer and to be held is to receive. But there is something very interesting in being held, because it can in and of itself be a form of healing. With so much activity constantly happening that emphasizes independence rather than interdependence, little time or space is left for the stillness, gentle nurturance, and encouraging support of simply being held and valued for who we are. Not who we might be tomorrow or next year, but who we are right here, right now.
In the coming months of this “Solstice to Solstice: Allowing Death, Cultivating Heart” project, I expect holding and being held to be two important and recurring aspects. They will create the space needed for our personal and collective stories, for death and grief, and for new openings from within the heart.
With this in mind, I invite you into reflection with these questions: What stories have you survived to be alive in this world right now? How have you held space for those stories? How have you been held within those stories? How have you simply been held? What feelings and emotions come from not being held for who you are and for the stories that you have created? What do you sense might happen if we were to hold space for all beings and for our collective stories, our current collective dream?