The Fruits of Falling Apart

I'll be honest, I've been having a hard time health-wise lately. Some may say it's bad luck, some may say it's unfair, all I know is my body and my plans are not on the same page. I recently moved back to Washington, DC after two years in Fairfield, IA to volunteer with the Sanctuaries, participate in the pilot of their Collective and work on my business as a singer-songwriter/artist. I had high hopes for productivity and improving health! 

Now, as I find myself visiting or calling my doctor every few days, feeling completely sapped of energy, I realize that my life-long self reliance will not serve me now. I need help. 

So I go to the rock. I don't understand what has caused these health issues, but I do know that the one true source of all the answers I require is ever present. 

I arrived at our weekly Collective meeting last Monday feeling tired, broken, resigned. I often carry the facade of someone who has everything together and lined up neatly in a row. In the sacred space of our little studio in Ivy City, I allowed the plates I had been spinning to fall. As I sobbed, the Collective gathered around me, placed their hands on my shoulders and each member spilled their blessing over me in their own unique way. The effect of this has stayed with me and I'm tearing up with gratitude as I write this. 

I don't understand why prayer works or how, but I do know that it does. And I hadn't understood the lasting fruit that being truly authentic bore until that moment in collective silence. So, if you feel so moved, I'd love for you pray for me as I continue on this road to recovery. I know in my heart your blessings will be multiplied.

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