Sending Love …

I lay in bed at night, or stand in the shower, or we gather around the kitchen table, with eyes closed, opening the space of the heart, I speak or write whoever’s name or face enters the mind. Family, friends, of course, but also aquaintances, random classmates from twenty years ago, unknown fellow humans facing tragedies, those doing jobs every day that serve each of us in our daily living, friends of friends of friends, ones who are no longer here, people who feel challenging and difficult, myself.

It matters.

I send love to the young family who I watch walk into the coffee shop, the corporate chain, not the new local one, because they aren’t open past six, most likely because they are run by folks who need to be home in the evening. I send love to them and to those who are working here this evening too. I send love to the thirty two year old I heard about today, unknown to me, but well loved by many, who dropped walking home with his EMT wife after celebrating his birthday, her unable to do anything, brain damage already done. I pause now as I write this to send his wife love.

I send my love to the family friend, long disconnected, but still connected who finds herself unable to speak, use her arms, hold or feed her newborn baby after a 1 in 40,000 complication found her post delivery. I send love to her husband, to the grandparents who are now parenting grandchildren, while worrying about their own grown baby. I send love to the trio sitting in front of me, regulars, sipping their coffee that they paid for with exact change, who are on a first name basis with the staff, and although I overhear them say they come every day, I watch them approach and chat with one another with such enthusiasm as if they haven’t seen each other for weeks. I send love to those who I see and spend the most time with, who I am not always able to offer that same openness of spirit and attention, who I can easily take for granted, who don’t always get the most loving parts of me.

I send love to the elderly man who is sitting here tonight, alone. I send love to the one who just received the diagnosis it seems so many of us are just waiting for, the C-word, and for the fear that leaves him shaking in fear and inability to control an uncontrollable situation. I send love to all of us who will sooner or later find ourselves there too. I send love to the teenagers, the ones with the converse high-tops and buzz cut hair, puffy jackets and eyes tilted down in their phones who ask so politely for a chocolate chip cookie, just boys in stretched out bodies. I send love for the young woman who rushes in toddler in tow, bundled up like its forty below, just eyes peeking out, door almost slamming him in the face, as she keeps checking her phone and looking out for somebody. I send love to the mother and father of a fifty year old man found dead in his bed last week, quietly leaving the world, who in their nineties now have to bury their own child. I send love for all the ways life changes in an instant. I send love to the vibrant eight year old boys, soccer cleats and shorts underneath winter parkas, out with their middle-aged dads, moustaches and receding hairlines, who have no patience for their son’s tears and indecision, and use some parenting quip that we’ve all used like, “if you don’t, then I will … ” I send love for the Dad, and for me, and for all of us who parent when our capacity levels are just so low, and we react out of exhaustion rather than love. I send love to all the kiddos who don’t always feel seen, who don’t always get heard, who don’t always get met with what they need.

I send love for all the folks who stood outside attaching Christmas lights in the past few weeks, whether it’s one strand around a square apartment window or a whole blow up character town on the front lawn. I send love to the small town restaurant owner who came out of the kitchen to talk to all the guests, who shared that his work is not for himself but for those who work with him, who excitedly shared his passion for food and kept saying “you only live once,” and also knows the challenging roller coaster of trying to keep a small business open. I send love to the familiar face who walks in just now, a face from twenty years ago, a human who was often on the receiving end of teenage “know everythingness” or to be more clear, rudeness. I notice his wedding ring, his graying hair, his soft and calm face and I wonder about him, about his life. I send love. I also send love to my teenage self. I send love to all the people who in their living nudge me to learn more and more about myself, and to the part of me that often has to learn this the hard way.

As I drive around town waiting for the girls to be done with their piano lessons, I send love to those who offer their time to children in so many capacities. I send love to the people I see standing at their sinks doing dishes, sitting on their couches watching Netflix, going through the motions of another day. I send love to all of those on life paths that are different in so many ways to mine. I send love to those who might be on “opposite sides” of many of my acquired thoughts and opinions. I send love to those whose stories and life experiences I can never truly know, understand. I send love to those I want to swoop up and help, as if I know exactly what they need. I send love to those who “trigger” me and to those who I “trigger.” I send love for all of the strategies we employ to try to get what we need, all the ways we aren’t able to see one another, ourselves, all the ways we haven’t known love.

I send love to all those who are scared to say or do the thing for fear of what’s on the other side. I send love to those waiting and don’t know how much longer they can hold on. I send love for those who feel they are drowning, that there’s got to be more to life this, to those who keep on trying, to those who are lost or hurting or lonely. I send love to those who are bored and feeling numb and to those who wish for nothing more than boring, ordinary living. I send love to the me who was full of life and love and abundance yesterday, delighted with being alive and present. And also to the me who is tired and exhausted today, who just wants to be left alone, to hide, who judges more than loves. I send love to the part of me that thinks I should be a certain way all the time, who thinks only parts of me are welcome and loved, who is often scared. I send love to those who are just so tired, to those who are done trying to get anywhere, but here.

I send love to remember what love truly is. I send love to notice, to slow things down. I send love to do something, anything, in a world that often leaves me feeling uncertain, helpless. I send love because I’m beginning to accept the world, us, it all, as it is. I send love, because I’m learning how to receive love. I send love because it both softens and empowers. I send love, because I’ve tried the alternative, and know the feeling of being closed off in fear and judgment and scarcity. I send love because it’s energy opens me, to see, to feel, to trust, to receive. I send love, because “it’s our only real choice. The only thing that we can truly give … the most important choice we can make for each other.” (Richard Wagamese, Embers)

I send love because it matters, because you matter, more than we know.

I send love to you.

Somewhere someone needs help.
Send love.
It matters.

If you can't get there yourself,
Then take a deep breath.
Breathe in the weight of their troubles,
Breathe out and send all those burdens
into the Light
Where sorrows can be held
With the most tender and infinite grace.

Breathe in what you can do.
Breathe out what you can't change.
Spool out a thread of connection.
Send courage and calm.
For the nights can be long
And filled with shadows
And sometimes terrible
Unexpected waters will rise.

Somewhere someone needs help.
Send love.
It matters.
- "Send Love - It Matters"  - Carrie Newcomer