Soft life.

Say less.

Hi everyone,

I am so excited to announce that I have opened my calendar to start taking spiritual direction clients for one-on-one sessions and group work. Please feel free to dm me here or email me at relategroups@gmail.com!

xox, Brittany

I am in a spin class. My heart is broken. I am trying to outpace my grief. An angel taps me on the shoulder and tells me to be done. The lights are low. No one can see, but I feel that they are watching.

I get off the bike. I walk out of the room. I never come back.

This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I like to live as close to nature as possible. I buy my daughter natural deodorant. She buys herself deodorant full of aluminum. This makes me scared.

I breathe and let it go. I trust her body to heal itself from any damage done.

This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I sit in a room full of people who think very differently from me. They say heinous things. They spew vitriol. They embody what they say they hate.

I feel no heat. I just feel sad. I do not make them wrong. I gather my books and leave in peace. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I feel email after email blowing into my inbox like a tempest. They are full of opinions. That wind feels disquiet as they shake the cage of my 40-day tranquility.

I never open them. I delete them. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I stand in front of my sisters in a white dress. I ask them to bless me. I ask them to bless the man who will love me. I ask them to guide my daughter rightly. I ask them to forgive the men who have loved me poorly.

I ask them to help me bloom like a rose in God‘s garden. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

A friend says something that breaks my heart. I feel it cut. I wait many weeks and then like a present, I give it back to her. I show her the wound.

She softens into my softness. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I step away from a fantasy world, full of loud voices and loud vices and ugly banter.

I opt into a fantasy world full of pinecones and seashells and fairies. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I am in pain every day, and I see a man for healing. He says it’s not what you do but how you do it. He tells me to lay down my burden at the riverside of his hands flowing down my spine. I hold and hold and release.

I shake and cry like a wild animal. I howl. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I take out my rosary each morning. I give a bead to everyone I like the least.

I will do this daily. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I wake up every day to messages from friends and loved ones. They send me hugs. They send me kisses. They celebrate my courage. They ask about my heart. They believe in my ideas. I receive this. I do the same for them.

This is loving and being loved. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

For every afternoon I could have a cup of coffee and press onward, I instead have a cup of tea and a piece of chocolate.

For each hour I have pushed, I lie down and take a nap. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I am at a restaurant. I think I should have a salad, but my heart wants a cheeseburger.

I eat a cheeseburger and a salad. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

My bank account dips below $100. I feel my body start to speed up. My mind races with ideas on how to fix this, to outrun it. I sit down. I open my heart. I cry.

I do nothing to change it. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I get the opportunity to join a women’s rowing team.

I sign up for salsa lesson instead. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I get very sick unexpectedly. It is an exorcism. I sit alone in the dark, scared. I pick up the phone and call, and ask for help. A friend comes over to wipe my brow, rub my back, clean my mess.

We lie side by side and fall asleep together. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I sit in a courtroom with someone I loved. It is ugly, messy and hard. I feel my strength and my sorrow. I feel all the evidence I could use to tilt this in my favor. I feel God’s skirts encircle me. I let mercy dance with justice.

I smile. I remain kind. I am proud. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

People I love are together and they did not include me. I can feel the heat rising. I can feel the dragon’s breath. The lion’s roar is caught in my throat. I can feel the desire to burn it all down.

I cry instead. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I hear a prayer on the breeze. It touches something in me. I didn’t want it to be touched. I start to excuse myself. I start to speed up. I start to resist. This flags me. I drop it down.

I apologize to myself, to God, to the world. I let it go. This is sacred magic. This is a soft life.

I let my opinions, my heat, my righteousness, my will, my feelings, my isms, my delusions, my goals, my hunger, my fantasies, my people, slip through my hands like drip castles made by the ocean. Nothing is too precious. Nothing is my own. Nothing matters if it hasn’t been tempered and purified with the fire of extraordinary love.

On Good Friday,

I walked the land of my ancestors and touched the walls of their tombs.

On Holy Saturday,

I stay asleep in the crest of their mountains and hid from the thrum of the world.

On Resurrection Sunday

I trace the halls of my wildest dreams in honor of their sacrifice.

The time to celebrate is now.

On Good Friday

I walked into the tomb of my dreams, bloody and bruised, and laid down.

On Holy Saturday

I wade out past the waves of suffering and was not allowed to drown.

On Easter Sunday

I rolled the stone from the cave and stepped out.

A voice tells me to rise.

This is sacred Magic.

This is a soft life.

Happy Spring, my loves. ❤️