A place for what was
never spoken.
Some things were never given words.
Here, they are given room.
Not therapy · not performance · not another place to pretend
slowly · honestly
without armor · without judgment
There are things a man carries
for decades without language.
grief pressure tenderness fear
love exhaustion silence
When your life is on the floor in pieces,
do not worship the pile.
Pick up one thread.
six ways in
— the fire we sit at —
Almost nothing here is ours.
We say this carefully,
because it matters.
There is a difference between taking a principle
and performing a ceremony.
There is a difference between learning from a fire
and claiming to have lit it.
The water and ash come from the Dagara.
The stories travel from the Apache, the Caucasus, the Tzutujil.
The poetry comes from Sufi fires older than this language.
The grief work comes from those willing to grieve in public.
The inheritance — what we carry that did not begin with us —
comes from those who looked at trauma without flinching.
The breath is older than any teacher.
We name what we can.
We honor what we cannot fully name.
We are only sitting at fires
others kept lit before us.
— with gratitude to —
Malidoma & Sobonfu Somé · Michael Meade · Martín Prechtel
Robert Bly · Francis Weller · James Hillman
Rumi · Hafiz · Attar
If something in you recognizes this,
you already understand.
Take your time. The door is open.
stay close to the fire