As I set up my calendar for the month, I chose a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it where I write phrases I hear or read that month that spark something in me. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For June 2026, my quote was, “Find the love that remains, and follow it forward into all the life that is to come.”
As a sit here to write, not knowing where to begin, the phrase that arose is “love is hard.” Maybe love is easy, it’s kindness that is hard. Whatever the sentiment, what I feel is a thick air of sludge. That the presence of a weariness and forlorn is pungent in the air. As a practical optimist, this is hard for me to acknowledge and weary to feel.
Here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught the attention of my head and heart this month:
- Cover me in sunshine
- Pull a thread here and you’ll find it’s attached to the rest of the world
- One journey can quietly rearrange your entire inner world
- Let them go—gracefully, clearly, and with love
- When the sacred path opens
- The wild wants your soul back
- Companionship is everything
- I can ask for what I need
- There is only moving with – an integration of all that has come before, and all you have been asked to live
- Wild ideas are welcome
- May joy, meaning, and hope arrive to join you along the way
In my training to become a certified grief guide, we each took an assessment. Mine revealed I was a “hearth holder.” The description noted a hearth holder stays steady when things get real; offers warmth, bravery, and unwavering support; offers presence where truth can be spoken; is both a lion heart and a holy well—bold and nourishing all at once. And it offered this phrase as a mantra: “I will stay with you, even here.”
Here in loss. Here in dread. Here in uncertainty. Here in frustration. Here in overwhelm. Here at the ravine between now and next, fear and possibility. Even here, because here is where the heart is.
A part of knowing my sturdiness in complex situations, is to understand that I too, need support and must sit and regroup in a nourishing community.
Today, John Roedel, a poet whose writing retreat I attended 2 years ago, posted these words… a balm as I sit “even here” amidst so many things both mine and others:
“You are somebody’s front porch to God. You are someone’s doorway to mercy.
You are the threshold to kindness. You are my entrance to letting go of regret.
No pressure but…
Your life is a gateway to peace for both strangers and friends alike.
Whether you realize it or not… empathy has chosen you to turn your heart into a welcome mat for others.
This is purpose of your life… to let your existence become a candlelight veranda to hope for the rest of us to gather on during the long night.”
So, “I will stay with you, even here” as whisps of heart break float through the breeze and together we’ll conspire for love, welcome the weary, and plant kindness.
Together, we’ll unite under the dark sky, our path lit by stars of hope, making something better possible.
I’m here. Come join me.
