Held in Grace, Strength, and Love

Remembering, Opening, Allowing, Receiving

It was just after daybreak and I was nestled in my meditation chair, settling into the stillness. Gongs and bells playing softly through the speaker on my phone offered a backdrop of sound that felt like a warm blanket. It had been a restless night. Settling into this moment was giving me renewed breath and a sense of gratefulness and relief for this quiet stillness. Tenderness and blessing for my being.

As I fell into meditation:

Time disappeared. I found myself
sitting cross-legged on the ground
at the side of a dirt road in a
far-off land and time.
There were others like me
scattered along the dry dusty
road, yet we hardly noticed
one another. We were just waiting.
And then from a distance they
came—a quiet sacred procession of
holy beings
making their way on their
pilgrimage.

Who they were,
their age, their skin color,
how they were dressed,
I couldn’t see.
Yet I knew without question
they were holy.

Photo by Juliana Barquero on Unsplash

Sitting cross-legged in my meditation chair, I could feel myself sitting on the side of that dirt road witnessing this holy procession. I didn’t know what was happening, who anyone was, or why we were there. And none of that mattered. All that mattered was the awe and wonder in my heart as I watched these holy beings pass by.

And then,

Without fanfare, a wise man, both
ancient and young,
stepped out of the procession and
came to me.
He leaned down,
his long beard touching my face
like soft feathers;
his billowing long robes gently
wafting around my arms.

And then without a word and with
no effort, he placed his hands
under my elbows and
lifted me up
from my cross-legged sitting.
And he wrapped me in his
holy embrace.
And my heart let go. And
I began to silently
weep. And everything else and
everyone else
disappeared.
There was only the
ancient young holy man
and me and his
embrace.
And the overwhelming presence of
grace,
strength,
love.

In my first Substack post of this year, I shared my words to live by for 2025:

Live simply,
love fully,
walk with,
carry nothing.

The last two months, these four simple instructions have been my guide every day. That in and of itself has been a wonderful gift. Yet when the ancient holy young man stepped out of the procession, walked to me, lifted me up, and held me in his embrace, I was overwhelmed with surrender to grace and love.

And then there came a fifth instruction:

I hadn’t realized that I wasn’t.

Let yourself be held.
I am a man who
feels deeply and
loves easily. I can
walk beside others
without trying to carry their
burdens. Yet I hold them.
I hold them in my heart.
People, their plights, my country,
the world. And that feels so right.
I can’t not hold the world in
love and compassion.
It’s in my DNA. It’s how
I’m wired.
Yet as the ancient wise young man
held me in his long and holy
embrace, I heard a voice within me ask:
Do I let myself be held
even as I hold others?

I admit my skin is not thick. My heart is easily moved. And tears come when my heart is touched. My face hides nothing of my feelings. Sometimes I think my life would be easier if I could just be more stoic.

Yet I also recognize vulnerability and compassion and loving and the ability to hold others in my heart as strengths. And I know that as I hold others in grace and love, I am also held. Yet knowing I am held and remembering to feel being held are not necessarily the same thing.

When grace and love appeared in the form of that ancient holy young wise man, I remembered. I allowed. I felt. And in that moment, grace and love became more real to me than ever before. Knowing and feeling became one, holy, and sacred.

So, it seems that the next invitation in my own spiritual journey is to practice letting myself be held in that holy grace and love, and feeling it at the same time. All the time. And perhaps especially when I am holding others.

There’s an old Irish proverb that says:

It is in the shelter of each other
that the people live.

—Old Irish Proverb

We’re living through tough times. The undercurrent of tension, fear, unknowing, uncertainty, and disbelief all around us, and sometimes maybe even within us, can feel unrelenting. Those undercurrents are in the air we breathe; they’re embedded in the shaky ground we walk on. These times call us to remember that we live in the shelter of each other. Communities, organizations, institutions, and governments are all made up of people—they’re made up of us. The more we open to being shelter for each other, and to being held in the shelter of others, and maybe even the “holy,” the stronger the ripple effect in our societies.

What would it mean to you to provide shelter for another in your heart? Not carrying them, not becoming their caretaker or becoming “responsible” for them. Rather, becoming “response-able” in your heart and in your presence and in your actions. Able to respond to the need of the moment. Providing heart shelter and lifting them up so they can take a breath and find their own strength again to stand on their own. So that they know they are not alone.

And at the same time, what if you could allow yourself to be sheltered in someone else’s heart? Perhaps even to be sheltered in the embrace of the holy, whatever “holy” means for you. To be held without fanfare, without effort, in full surrender to grace, strength, and love.

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Invitations

• Free recorded Meditations for Changing Times led by Alan. More than 50 guided meditations. Choose the title that speaks to you and listen. Available for free to you anytime.

• Visit The Center for Transformational Presence website

• Consider reading one of Alan’s Books

• Explore Coaching and Mentoring with Alan

• Invite Alan to Speak to your organization or conference

• Explore Upcoming Programs in Transformational Presence

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