I’m rarely at a loss for words.
Today, I’m struggling.
A few months back, I recorded a conversation with an old friend, Erin Moon. Someone I’ve known for a decade, but we’d drifted over the years. She lived through an unbearable loss a few years after we fell out touch and I wasn’t really sure how to reach out. So, I didn’t.
Then, one-day, not too long ago, I walk into a coffee-shop with my kid and Moon is standing there. Open arms, that same smile that melts pretty much everyone in the room’s hearts and a warm hug. Days later, we stumble into each other again. The Universe, apparently, has plans.
We talk a bit. Then, we talk a bit more. And I ask her how she is. There is no veil with Erin. She is, simply, all there.
As she unfolds, I dissolve.
I want to share her story with my tribe. But I’m concerned. Her lens on the path you walk from dark to light is gorgeous. Raw. Deeply compelling. But she’s still, unapologetically, in the weeds. On her way, but not there yet.
I wonder how that will “go over.” Will other people see the beauty that is her, her story, the wisdom she plumbs from the depths and shares so eloquently? Will they find solace in simply discovering, I am not alone?
So, I invite her over for coffee. We turn on the mics.
The conversation starts with a lot of laughing. It always does with Erin. Then, we cross the threshold and she beings to share the story of the last 4 years. I’m alternatively holding back tears, wanting to hug her, while also marveling at her strength and her willingness to be so transparent. So present. So open.
I’m at a loss for words today, because I don’t know quite how to describe what really happened in that conversation.
How to lay it bare it in a way that makes you want to listen. Because I think it’s a conversation that’s important. One that will move you. Maybe give you hope. And a place to put your next step.
So, I’ll just make this simple.
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