I hear words free flowing inside my head, drawn by currents of thoughts that are contrasting, opposing, conflicted. They wrestle inside me for days until they are ready to come through, my skin prickles, my heart rate increases and I sit before you.

They are ready.

My mind fluctuates between sorrow for the price that is paid by so many who are unprotected, in denial, resistant, exposed, vulnerable, misinformed, obliged to stand in the forefront of this tidal wave that ruthlessly rips away the mantles of illusion that we hold dear, that we are in control, that we could live in a world free from suffering, that we exist as islands, separate from the whole.

If you hurt, I hurt. If we hurt, everybody hurts.

These is so much suffering surfacing through the layers of our consciousness, old fears of monsters awaiting in childhood closets, dangers lurking in the shadows, a suspense that makes us hold our breath when we think of a future unknown. We thread carefully along the pathways of loneliness and isolation whether we live alone or are negotiating a space shared with others. Our humanity, my humanity, is interwoven with historical grief and suffering.

Some mornings, after a restless night, as I rise with an uncertain breath, steadying myself for another day of this life, the only one there is, I begin to move with a weary heart and a silent soul asking for guidance, inspiration and calm.

These thoughts raise tension and battles inside me when I feel a gratitude so deep it makes my heart weep; to have a home, to be able to continue to work, to learn how to make bread, to write or sculpt, as I hold myself still.

Saying yes to the battlefield alive inside me is saying yes to streams of hope, confidence and trust that we will find our communal way through these times, and open myself to moments of fury, of unconsolable despair, fear and regret. It is the willingness to say yes to death in all its forms and expressions, trusting the rebirth of Life in a new way.

In gestures so inherent to my everyday living I continuously bring my hands to rest on my body, allowing the graceful energy of Reiki to soothe and quieten my grief, fear and worry. I often bring my hands together holding the ones I love and who ask for my company from afar.

I found in the making of this sculpture a way to express my grief of loss and love that continues to unveil the miraculous delicacy of deep affection and devotion. She accompanies me in my daily practice.

May we all hold the powerful grace of paradox lightly, generously and courageously, as we witness the birthing of a new era.