There is a weightedness of grace at the core of being present. There is an ache in the question, “What could I possibly offer?” that becomes the very threshold that ignites the alchemy of wholeness.
Moments—gut-wrenching, soul-breaking moments—when someone comes to me as everything in their world is falling apart. Not just falling apart… but annihilated. Evicted by abuse. Blindsided by trauma. Betrayed by systems that were supposed to help.
When someone turns to me, shattered by truths too big for words, all my training, all my degrees, all my coaching frameworks go out the window. It all becomes utterly irrelevant.
What Could I Possibly Offer?
Initially, I ask this in abject bewilderment. I haven’t a clue what these individuals expect I have that could possibly help them in their dire situations. Truthfully, I love my work—but I hate these moments. These moments when someone expects something of me—something I do not know exists. (Except… I do.)
Because this is the moment when “offering something” isn’t the point. This moment invites in something far deeper. This is when being in presence is all there is. Not pretending I have the answers. Not fixing—not even soothing. Just Being With.
It’s exquisite. And it’s excruciating.
Two Recent Moments Pierced Me Open in this Way
One client had to flee her home because of an abusive, manipulative individual. The systems failed her—no help from police, no safety net. She called me because she had no one else to turn to—no one else who would simply be with her in the rawness of it all.
Another client, a young mother, discovered that her daughter had been exposed to boundary-crossing behavior of a sexual nature by another child of the same age. The mother was in shock, spiraling in trauma, blame, grief, and unbearable guilt. The authorities were involved. There was nothing I could say that wasn’t already being said and done.
In both situations, these individuals reached out to me—for what? I didn’t know.
In both situations, I wanted to say the right thing. I wanted to fix the unfixable. I wanted to make sure they got their money’s worth—considering they’d be paying me, even while enduring these horrendous events. Man!!!
With nothing to heal, nothing to fix, nothing to say, I listened. I allowed myself to listen beyond the 3D reality. I allowed myself to hear—truly hear—what so often gets drowned out by the incessant noise of right and wrong, good and bad, blame and victim, shame and guilt. Slowly, threads of a deeper truths of reality began to weave themselves together—enough that I could trust what was coming through me. I hoped that I could speak without dismissing, without instilling any sense that this moment meant any less to me than it did to them. In other words. What I was about to say required my utmost respect and reverence for this human being and the events they summoned up for the advancement of their being.
And then, I spoke the truth of what I had witnessed—not just in this moment, but in the soul of each of these women, consistently seen across months and years together.
In each case, I reached beyond the 3D consensus reality—the world of facts, systems, diagnoses, and solutions—and touched into the sacred arc of their lives. The patterning of life themes. The longings and the reckonings they had already been walking toward for lifetimes.
This moment, as horrific and unthinkable as it is, isn’t separate from who they are or who they’re becoming. It isn’t random. It isn’t punishment. It’s part of the journey they’ve been unfolding for lifetimes. And they knew that I knew that they knew. That’s why they called.
They Knew that I Knew that They Knew.
They called because they need to feel seen—not as broken or as victims. They know I see them strong, brave, brilliant. They know that I know they are sacred beings walking into a sacred crucible—where the alchemy of wholeness is ignited.
This is the path. The calling of someone worth talking with—being with.
It requires me to witness and observe what has already shown up in previous sessions. It requires me not to fill the silence with something that would lessen the ache of the excruciatingly exquisite moment. It requires me to be fully present with them—present enough to reflect their wholeness back to them, even when the world seems hell-bent on destroying them in every possible way.
Trust me, it’s not heroic work. It’s not easy. It’s just real. And in that realness, knowingness emerges. The sacred, the holy, will always emerge when two people agree to stay and not run.
I’m Learning Not to Run
This is what it means to be someone worth talking with—being with. Even when there’s nothing to offer. Even when there’s nothing to do. Even when everything inside me says, “FUCK.” Even in this big, fat be-with of “I don’t know how to be here, now,” I still show up.
And somehow, for the person I’m sitting with, that’s more than enough.
What’s the Cost?
It costs something to be someone worth talking with—to be with—in the moments when life falls apart, without fleeing, fixing, or flinching.
In the next post, I’ll be sharing some of what I experience in: The Price of Becoming Someone Worth Talking With—Being With.
And if you feel called to be present at this level, for yourself or with others, please feel free to contact me for ways to coach or to train with me. I’d be honored to support you. You can contact me at: rosie@theparadigmshifts.com.
