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Susie Mawhinney's avatar

"I have no desire to transcend my rage, nor pretend that horror is anything besides—I simply desire to hold it all. To refuse nothing."

To 'refuse nothing' is a heavy burden dear Chloe, and one that feels crushing at 2am — I know... I wish I didn't.

We are bombarded by byzantine reasons to wake at these hours that shouldn't be visited but how do we sleep with peace arranged on our pillows, wake rested and weightless when we cannot un-know the things we know?

I need to believe only that buried deep within our horror there is love, that there is no witness to either rage or horror without that we first witness love, and we cannot un-know this either.

With forever hope and love x

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

How gorgeous.

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Jill's avatar

Beautiful

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Sue Sklar's avatar

My father died 3 months ago, my brother is currently facing his time to die, and my best friend is also dying. Chloe your words are like a mountain waterfall and I just lie still underneath it

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Jill's avatar

I lost my mom in June. 💔

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Alja Zwierenberg's avatar

For a very long time I hold on to the thought that my death could be an answer to the pain I experienced. It was a life buy I hold on to. Until one night when everything seem to fail I heard in my head a voice saying; I don't believe he brought me this far to leave me now. It was the voice of Maya Angelou, someone I trust unconditionally. In that moment another voice, I knew very well, mentioned kindly; you can commit suicide ... I opened myself for this thought and started a conversation. By opening myself for this voice something else emerged. An awareness that I felt scattered inside myself into a thousand pieces. By holding on to the thougth that I could kill myself I was already losing my life slowly. When this awareness arose and the fact that I can never kill my soul because it lives forever ... a glue came alive that glued all pieces together again and I felt a love I never experienced before, one that stays. I thought about this, reading your post Chloe.

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Michelle Dixon, Ph.D.'s avatar

I love how you’ve described this. This glue glueing all your pieces together. I’m glad you’re past that.❤️

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Alja Zwierenberg's avatar

Thank you, me too!

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Anja Byg's avatar

Thank you for this beautifully and wisely written piece which resonates strongly with me. More and more I feel that holding the paradoxes of existence, life and death, beauty and horror, joy and grief and all the rest of it without reducing one or the other is the real challenge and task that we face.

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Echoes and Oscillating's avatar

So eloquently written. To first become aware of the need: fix or witness, then to understand it and then to act as needed and required. Seems easily done but in practice, challenging at every step. Thank you for this thought provoking perspective.

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Sandy 10^2,685,000,'s avatar

Just so Chloe, just so. Thank you.

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Mary Booker's avatar

Your desire mirrors my own. To be this spacious requires seeing the perspective of what keeps us tight and small, what we have tied ourselves to, and letting go of it. Easier said than done as you discovered in the middle of the night. It's taking me years of practice.

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Julie Gabrielli's avatar

“I have to lay down my stories about what things mean and how things should be, and simply respond to what is.” I will carry this with me today. Thank you for shining your light. And your the intention to hold it all, to refuse nothing. Reading that brings up the thought that this is what humans have always done, it’s what we are equipped for. Modern life does everything it can to make us forget. I’m so grateful to you for this reminder.

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Linda Clark's avatar

"To engage with someone whose time it is to die with the intention of fixing the problem of their dying is a subtle violence which our culture encourages, and it’s one which we can guard ourselves against by learning to distinguish between what needs intervention and what needs witnessing."

I witnessed my Dad dying 8 years ago. It was his time to die, but it was so hard to watch and to accept. As a nurse, I always felt I could have, or should have done more. Though goodness knows what. My thoughts torment me often. Reading your piece today comforted me. Thank you Chloe.

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Beth T (BethOfAus)'s avatar

I have a niece that seems to experience a mental pain similar to your awful middle-of-the-night physical pain. Such despair. Such certainty that this is the Truth of things and everything else a delusion. Your other words remind me that I can’t fix everything, I must simply witness and help in any way required. It’s so hard!! Sigh…. Take care dear Chloe. Wishing peace and healing for the whole world in 2026.

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Caroline Mellor's avatar

Profound, tender and true. I am in awe of what you have articulated here, Chloe. Peace 🤍

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Beth Peyton's avatar

Thanks for this, Chloe. I'll come back to it again and again. I need to do a better job of holding the horrible things that are happening right now instead of being enraged and/or distraught because I can't fix them, and work on fixing the things I can fix. Man, it's a lot to hold now. I'm really sorry you hurt, though...

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Julie Potiker's avatar

This is gorgeous and huge, and oh so difficult. What helps me create enough space to hold all of it, is the ancient practice of Tonglen. Sometimes, breathing in the horror (I know, it’s counter intuitive) breathing the pain deep into my center and allowing myself to transmute it, or metabolize it so that my exhale is clear, cool, peaceful love works to manage the job. Pema Chodrun teaches this technique, as do others. It’s intense though. It takes discernment to understand your edge of what is possible. Thank you for reminding me to start practicing Tonglen again. I haven’t done it lately, and it always helps.

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Susan Nordin's avatar

Your writing is a portal to spaciousness and wonder. Reflecting on the ways we narrow what we sense by applying labels, constructs, and assumptions. How these control, attempt to corral, and tame what is actually wild, vast and unknowable. How we miss out when we do this! Can we “presence a thing” and simply be with it, as you were with the magpie, as you are with your pain, so that it becomes medicine that leads to wholeness?

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Mr. Troy Ford's avatar

I had never thought of it this way, Chloe, but to make a story out of our pain, even one that is merciless and terrifying - does it help or merely conceal? 🩵

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Susan Coyne's avatar

It can do both, and often does.

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Liz Edwards's avatar

I am a palliative caregiver and I try, I try so hard to hold that immense space not only for the dying but for me. Your words are a balm.

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