My sweet companions, Lily and Maisie, are resting quietly beside me on the couch this morning.  Their faces are both turned towards me with sweet innocence and loving devotion.  I feel the heaviness of my body on the couch and the quiet tap tap of computer keys.  This is how I orient myself to the present moment and the mystery that is unfolding here.  I belong to this moment.  

I bring my hands towards my face in prayer pose the same way I did when I was a child, open and sincere.  The words of a song playing quietly in the background hold a special significance for me this morning, “The story circles; it comes back around”. 

We had our first Sunday free online event: A Resting Place this week and I spoke about how the nature of trauma is to repeat.  As I rest here in the pristine quiet of this moment I can feel the reiteration of a trauma pattern in my physiology.  I welcome it here in the same way I welcome everything else that is making itself known.  

There is no separation in love. 

Just this week an old friend reached out triggering remnants of hurt and confusion; high profile sexual assault allegations in the news again; another police officer shot and killed on duty just days after finding out that the evidence from my father’s murder is still in storage at the police department; the birth of my great nephew born just weeks after my brother passed; an old and familiar pain in my body reminding me that perhaps I pushed myself too hard this week.  It’s just a lot to digest sometimes.  

I feel numb.  There’s an intelligence in numbness I have come to understand and respect. I lit a candle this morning for me, for you and for all of us who are dealing with the impact of trauma.  For the numbness that leaves us absent and longing for what we often can’t even name. I can tell that my body isn’t quite ready to feel yet.  I don’t push.  There is grace in waiting.

When I sit down to write I never really know what I’m going to say.  It’s as if I’m listening to what wants to be spoken.  There are a lot of quiet spaces of waiting for the next words.  I love the quiet spaces because I sense they bring me into attunement with all of you.  None of us are in this cosmic dance alone.  I hope my words speak to you in a way that lets you know that you are not alone dear friend.



You are welcome to join me and a small group of friends for our weekly free online gathering:  A Resting Place  If you have any questions feel free to contact me.

All of Candace’s services are Trauma, PTSD, Complex Grief, Chronic Illness and Benzo withdrawal symptom sensitive.

Candace Kirby, Counsellor

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