It is her birthday.
She is turning thirty.
She gathered her friends from across the structural lines of work and pleasure and asked them to all show up in a vineyard – hard to struggle through I know.
She dreamed of celebrating.
So we all came.
We met one another, shared a living space for four days, drank, cooked, toured, drank (it is wine country), laughed, swam, napped, ate amazing food and cried. Yep, all of us, even John.
What could possibly make grown people, some who barely know one another, shed tears together?
We gathered, fifteen plus around a table, food clinging to forgotten plates, loud chaotic conversations, and glasses of wine swirled, sipped, and savored. Someone rose and invited us all to gather our attention to the birthday girl – the one who had brought us all here, the one whose life had created these weekend connections between random people.
One by one we spoke of what we know to be true of the birthday girl, and as the strong affirming words rose in the air and we all began breathing the same air of knowing this woman we ALL cried.
The motion of feeling
Emotion is a funny thing – it stirs something in us. E-motion is about movement. Yet, too often, I want to move past what is being stirred and quickly step into logic and defining something that’s meant to be experienced.
I began to taste our tears, not just my own. The birthday girl gathered us and in bringing us together she was crushing and squeezing our lives into this weekend, she was creating a wine that held a special vintage of her life.
What is truly crushed is joined with and to another. It will cease to be alone and instead be a part of something bigger.
We paused to let one another’s words be shared. We honored the expansiveness of shared understanding. We drank deeply of seeing her receive these words. We finished this bottle completely not wasting one drop of the love shared.
Thank you for letting me be one small grape, crushed into the rich vintage of your life. Happy Birthday sweet friend.