Or: Unexpected Conduits of Grace
In what may seem like a departure from my typical writing about spirituality and soul work, I’m delighted to introduce you to Sunny and Disco, who I met earlier this summer. (If you want to skip right to the love story, scroll down to the poetry section!)
Summer is always difficult for me, partly due to the increasingly intense Texas heat, which means that I miss out on my usual time outdoors. For a period of time, even the evenings and mornings are too warm and humid for the long walks I enjoy the rest of the year. This, combined with the change in daily rhythms that leads to much less alone time, always leaves me feeling a bit disconnected from myself and the Holy, which in turn means that I write and create less. I always miss it desperately by the beginning of August, but I’ve learned to trust that it will return.
I named my Substack publication and podcast “Words From Silence” after a poem I wrote (read it here) because it describes my commitment to share words that aren’t reactive but come from a deeper, more contemplative place. I wanted to avoid writing and posting just for the sake of keeping up with a schedule. I try to share with you only if and when I have something worth sharing—words to promote healing, wholeness, and growth in relation to self, others, the divine, and creation.
Earlier this summer, while I was missing the connection to creation I typically enjoy through long, slow walks along the creek near our house, I found it through a different avenue. The words from silence that I have to offer today were born out of an unexpected grace back in June, when I had the opportunity to pet sit two guinea pigs for a friend while she was out of town for a couple weeks. Spending my days in her quiet, empty house with these two dears was a medicine I didn’t know I needed.
Grace comes to us through many conduits. For me, this summer, the conduits showed up in the form of two tiny, furry, adorable little personalities who spoke in squeaks and beeps. I would love to know how grace has been finding its way to you lately, however unexpected the packaging.
Poetry
Sunny & Disco: A Love Story in 4 Parts
Part 1: The Set Up
I never gave much thought to guinea pigs,
one way or another, until this week,
pet sitting for a friend.
I did not know about
the purring, beeping sound they make,
like the whirring of a helicopter in the distance.
I didn’t know that they need
at least one guinea pig companion
who speaks their language
and might be willing to form a “piggy train,”
one following the other
in the most adorable single-file line
imaginable.
As prey, this keeps them safe in the wild.
As pets, it is one of many behaviors
that endears them to their humans.
Part 2: The Meet Cute
The Google search
did not report
the particular comfort they offer
when they’re in the room with you—
with all their squeaking,
munching, and scuffling—
while you’re in a virtual therapy session.
“Extra heartbeats in the house,”
my friend’s mother calls it.
You might be crying your way through
putting your internal parts
in conversation with each other
as they’re witnessed
by the practitioner on the screen.
Somehow, the whole time,
the presence of these extra hearbeats
makes you feel the way you did as a child,
running into the arms of your mother,
whose body reminded you
there was an adult in the room,
which meant you could be the one
to fall apart for a little while.
I have often thought of somatic work
as a turning inward and noticing
or a pair or group of humans co-regulating,
but now two furry, whiskered faces—
Sunny and Disco—pop into mind
when my body remembers how it felt
to witness and be witnessed
with curiosity and eventually,
deep affection.
Part 3: Falling: A Montage
Disco likes the tomatoes best.
Neither he nor Sunny had much to say
about the green bell peppers.
(What I mean is that those were left for last
among the salad of raw veggies
I had scattered about the cage.)
I remember the odd validation
of my dislike of green bell peppers
when I first learned they were simply
less ripe than the yellow, orange, and red ones.
These little guinea pigs
are more relatable than I expected
prior to spending time with them.
Then there was the day when I walked in
and the moment I turned on the light,
they froze like two criminals
caught redhanded,
one long blade of hay
protruding comically from Disco’s mouth.
“Nothing to see here!”
they seemed to say.
Most days, I leave the light off
in favor of the natural light
from a small window at one end of the room.
I sit here in the shadows,
writing but otherwise still and quiet,
imagining that I’m letting them
grow accustomed to my presence,
unobtrusive enough
for them to settle into safety.
This makes me think
of the hours and years
Jane Goodall spent in the wild,
quietly observing her beloved chimps.
I was so sad when she died.
I never knew her, of course,
but something about knowing she existed
and was doing this hidden,
important work in the world,
loving it despite all the reasons not to…
the way her quiet witness
and love for the world led to advocacy…
it mattered to me.
Part 4: It Must Be Love
Honestly, I was surprised.
My friend had said
they squeak when they’re hungry,
but now I know the particular joy
of being greeted enthusiastically
by their happy sounds, “wheeking,”
Disco’s two front paws up on top
of the side of the cage,
his little head peering over the edge at me,
the miniature salad untouched
for the moment.
At the beginning, I was charmed
to walk in the room and see
Sunny’s tiny leg splayed out
from the furry bulk of her body
as she slept in the safety of her felt tent.
I found myself working
on my laptop in their room,
their little bodies and noises
like a grounding undercurrent
running through my body.
By the end of the first week,
while I was working in their room,
I looked up when their scuffling ceased:
nap time for both of them.
Disco’s face lying just outside
the entrance of one of his hiding spots,
and Sunny, the dear…
the rapid rise and fall of her body
with each breath as she slept,
unprotected in front of me,
right out in the open.
Book Nook
I usually open spiritual direction sessions with a centering moment, which often includes reading a poem, prayer, or blessing. I love thinking about all of the wisdom and compassion that accompanies us in these sessions through the words of my favorite poets, authors, teachers, and mystics.
I’ve been working on creating book lists through Bookshop, an online site that supports independent bookstores. Today, I’m sharing a list of some of my favorite poem, prayer, and blessing books. You can find the list here. If you have any favorites you think I should add, please comment and let me know!
Affiliate disclosure: I joined the Bookshop affiliate program, so if you purchase anything through the links in the list, a portion of the sale will go to an independent bookstore and I may receive a small commission, at no cost to the purchaser.
Spiritual Direction & Enneagram Work
The work of noticing, naming, expressing, and tending is part of what we do in spiritual direction. Many of my directees benefit from the Enneagram as a tool for their inner work. If you would like a compassionate companion for your journey of growth in freedom, healing, and flourishing, I would be honored to do this work with you. I am also available to facilitate groups. For more information on spiritual direction, Enneagram work, and/or to schedule a free introductory Zoom call, click here or email me.
Blessing
May you have the time and space to notice and name the graces that come to you through unexpected avenues. May your body have the safety to sink into the sense of connection with self, others, the divine, and creation, however it arrives. May these moments serve as a felt sense of connection, safety, and empowerment that you can return to whenever you need.
Be well, friends.
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