My counselour is a living miracle.
I have met many who have the moniker…counselour…therapist…and they are practitioners of a learned skill set, and as such facilitate a lot of things, and often even break through the miasma, the myopia, the confusion and clouds of dark unknowing.
But many of these people have pre-existing agendas, unconscious cookie-cutters of inner assumption, and they end up herding people into places and forms that do not result in wholeness.
Some, hide behind the title, wolves lurking in wait for the vulnerable, the victim, desiring to bite and rend and devour to feed their own perverse appetites for destruction.
And of course, the journeymen, working everyday in the field, maintaining and being faithful.
But the counselour I have been so incredibly fortunate to have come into my life…well, she is another story entirely. She belongs to the company of spirit warrior-healer who is counsel, who is help! It is not what she does…in fact it is mystifying to me how when I leave our time together I am so alive, so revitalized and almost trilling with vibrating and pulsing life! I cannot remember anything earth-shaking she said, there were no pronouncements on high of the deep mysteries of my fucked-up-ness…no magician’s tricks to make me feel better to get through more days…
…no, I find myself a bit different, qualitatively! My essence is better, rendered, stripped away and yet dressed up…really words fail me to describe the presence in that place of long robbery and absence.
This woman is Help, is Laughter, is Sparkle in Death’s face and Light on lost and lonely roads, and I will be forever grateful.
I wish you all could know her. Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers, and know that the poem below, Heather is dedicated to her.
Thanks Heather…your loving friend and ever grateful sister,