This month is a month of endings. My last child graduated from high school and my nest has emptied. My roles are changing as I leave beloved jobs and work. A chapter of my life is ending, and with these endings, I cry the tears of letting go, the tears of grief, which are really tears of love and gratitude: thank you for this precious life.

I know, in my bones know, that I am so much more than my roles or even a season of my life. But with each role, with each season, I love, and connect, and embed myself in the web of giving and receiving, in the particularity of loving this particular person, this particular job, this particular house. And so it hurts when those bonds shift, or break, or soften, rearranging into a new form.

It is good to honor this hurt. And it is good to notice what remains. The first line of this poem, "everything is here in this empty day," came to me while I sat alone in my house in the silence, in the hole of emptiness left by my departing children, left by this departing season of my life. There is aliveness and love, even in emptiness. Nothing is truly lost.

Everything is Here by Karly Randolph Pitman

Everything is here in this empty day.
In the silent house you hear your children's
teasing, their faces bloomed by laughter.

In the quiet hall you feel the shuffle
of your students' feet, your work bag
slung over your shoulder. You stagger

under the weight of endings – your last
child, last graduation, last class, last day
of work. With each you weep. But then

you listen to the hollow of loss, look
for the new form rearranging herself
even as your insides ache, turned in

to themselves. The light is on in your
son's room, shining where he left it
burning hours ago. Your hands move

to your flesh, skin and bone,
warm blood, cupping your heart.
Here it says. Here. I live here now.

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With a grateful heart, Karly

New group begins in June - Gathering Ourselves 

If you yearn for a place where you can write, share, connect and explore with other "Soul Divers," you might be interested in my upcoming group, Gathering Ourselves.

My friend Tamara and I have been cooking up this circle, and we're so eager to share this new offering with you. 

In Gathering Ourselves, we'll use centering practices, ceremony, prompts, poems, and our own creative expression - whether it's collage, writing, journal pages or more - to nurture a more generous, deeper, and restorative relationship with our inner world.

We'll couple our exploration with group sharing - a safe, sacred space where we can share, listen to ourselves, and listen to each other.

Gathering Ourselves meets once a month on Fridays from 12 to 3 central time, starting in June and ending in November. You do not need to be a writer or consider yourself creative to join - merely a desire to show up and play.

You can learn more and sign up here.