There is a subtle light that flickers in tiny orbits in another’s eyes when they’re speaking.

You can follow its path up and over and within, to the way back of themselves as they open the doors and nervously pace the halls inside, searching for the right words to say.

I’ve set aside the want to respond too quickly or roll the words around in my mind that will best relate.

No, when I’m deeply listening, I’ve flung all the windows up and raised all the shades to fully open this house of me, allowing them to enter with their suitcases and boxes of emotions and memories.

All of them is welcome here.

I start a small kindling fire in my belly as they arrive and are flinging the social niceties around the room, removing layers of nervous small talk.

I methodically nestle pinecone, twigs, chestnuts, and worn pages from yesterday’s paper until a golden flicker arises.

Its warm comforting smoke finds its way up through my sternum and out the breathing birdcage of my chest, creating a warm receptive heart space for us– to unlayer our pleasantries at the door, sink into our raw wanting animal selves.

I feel their bodies movements, the rise and fall of their belly as they carefully unpack the box they’ve chosen to open with me.

And I slip into a mental yogic flow at their pace, letting all of my things fall away as their words guide us along in sacred communion.

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