you are not alone

This week, I reached the bottom of my energy well.

The very, very bottom.

There wasn’t one drop left.

I was an empty husk of nothingness - but not in an enlightened Buddhist monk sort of way.

I reached my limit of what I could bear:

Deep concern for my loved ones, including those I’ve never met; the raging prevalence of that one particularly damaging conspiracy theory; the evil of the current regime in this country; the never-ending pressure of house cleaning and food preparation; the pandemic; the fires in California…it all became too much for me.

I started thinking about what an utter failure I have been in my life.

I was swept with sorrow over not being able to help the very people I wish the most to help; about how hard I have worked with little or no success.

In short, I felt like shit.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t breathe.

I would love to tell you a story of magic and grace.

I would love to tell you that in that moment of despair, a white feather floated down from the ceiling and landed on my lap, or that I felt the comfort of healing energy wrapping around me, or that I received a text or a phone call with words of reassurance.

But this is not the case.

What happened was that I sat on my sofa in panic and pain, my heart racing.

I tried my favorite prayer, please help, but no help came.

I felt utterly alone. Empty and alone.

This week, my niece was following me in her car. We made our way through crosstown traffic, steadily. I asked for and received green lights for our left hand turns. I kept looking in my rearview mirror to make sure I wasn’t going too fast, that I hadn’t lost her. I kept looking in my rearview mirror at her behind the wheel of her own car, driving. The amount of love I felt for her cannot be described, the level of protection I envisioned around her, cannot be quantified. I cannot tell you how proud I was of her, driving her car.

When we pulled into our neighborhood, I waved to her in the mirror and she waved back.

I didn’t really want to keep driving. I wanted to go with her, to stick with her, but that’s not what she needed from me.

What she needed from me was trust.

She needed me to trust her to drive - to live - even when she’s not following me through traffic.

Maybe, I thought, this is how it is with us and God.

The amount of love being poured into us, the protection surrounding us as we drive our cars into the world, cannot be described.

Maybe the moments when we feel the most alone, are the moments when we are being loved the most, trusted.

As I write this, my heart is pounding in my chest. I’ve had too much caffeine.

I’m still exhausted, and I know you might be as well.

I have tasks today - the ongoing relentless household tasks of these times.

I feel pretty worthless, truth be told.

Partly, this is mine and partly, it is ours.

We are deep in the death energy.

And as much as I would love to jump to resurrection, I’m not there yet, we’re not there yet.

As much as I would love to tell you there’s an angel sitting next to me, gently stroking my hair and telling me exactly what I need to do next, that is not the case.

But I know that I am not alone.

And I know that you are not alone.

I know the angels and guides, the love of God, is all around us and moving through us, even when we feel like we are empty and done.

Especially then.

I can’t tell you how I know, I just do.

I am not alone, and neither are you.

Even in death and chaos and despair.

Creation speaks.

Rebirth is coming.

We are driving our cars across town and there is someone, someone who cherishes us beyond measure, glancing in her rearview mirror at us, wishing she could keep us safe, knowing that to love us, she must allow us to be free.