The Gift of Sacred Witness
I consider the professional work I have done in my life a privilege. In the past 20+ years I have been able to work as a youth minister, pastor, chaplain, yoga teacher, and clinical therapist. In each of these jobs one of my roles has been to hold space for other people’s emotions, somatic pain, thoughts, hopes, grief, and dreams for their future. While having a safe person who bears witness to your story is imperative in order to recover from trauma, all people have stories to tell, even in the absence of complicated trauma. I also am aware of the gratitude I feel towards my own therapists and spiritual directors who have been a witness to the story of my life, with all its sorrows and joy. When you have compassionate friends and professionals hold such space, it can provide you a healing balm, greater self-awareness, and personal resilience.
More recently, the art of holding space for someone or bearing witness to their story, is sometimes referred to as the art of sacred witness. Maya Angelou once said, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.” When you allow a cherished loved one to hear your hurt and pain, it often provides relief to the feelings you are holding. I also believe that you can offer the practice of sacred witness to yourself. Mindfulness is a practice of sacred witness where you enter the present moment to pay attention to your body, thoughts, and feelings. When you practice mindfulness, you don’t have to carry an untold story inside of you, because you start to pay attention to all the parts of yourself.
Recently, my family experienced what seemed to be an eventful day. You too have experienced days like this, and most likely days that have been far worse. During the morning of this action-packed day, someone hit the rock wall in front of our house but fled the scene of the crime. So, my dear husband spent the morning filling out a police report. The police said the wheel marks indicated an 18-wheeler had been the culprit.
Later in the afternoon we had the excitement of a chipmunk running rampant in our house. Sure Alvin, Simon, and Theodore seem adorable on TV, but unfortunately our 2 indoor cats did not think he was so cute. My cats cornered the poor thing, but luckily my husband rescued the chipmunk in the nick of time. I’m hoping the little guy is living his best life outdoors.
The hardest part of the day was our trip to the movie theater to see The Little Mermaid. Ariel has always been my favorite Disney princess and so I couldn’t wait to take our little one to see Disney’s live-action reimagining of this movie. You might not want to admit it, but you remember the lyrics, “Under the sea…Under the sea…Darling it’s better…Down where it’s wetter…Take it from me.” Unfortunately, we did not get to see all the movie because our daughter had a bad fall mid-way through it. We rushed her to TC Thompson Children’s Hospital and sadly learned from their amazing staff that our precious three-year-old daughter, Isabelle, had fractured her skull. We ended up spending a long night at the hospital, but thankfully Isabelle is on the mend.
After this saga, I realized our day of woes had been on a full moon. If a full moon can affect the rise and fall of the ocean, it certainly can inform a curious chipmunk, an erratic truck driver, and all the kids in the neighboring beds to us at the children’s hospital, who were also sadly there to tend to a broken bone.
When I reflected on the previous day, I realized I was exhausted. Sometimes when I am emotionally spent, I call friends so I can externalize my feelings, but I didn’t have the energy to do this. However, I did have the capacity to breathe and notice my body, thoughts, and feelings. When I paid attention to my feelings, I felt anger and even empathy towards the driver who hit our rock wall. I also felt sadness about Isabelle’s injury, but gratitude that it wasn’t worse. I observed that I was holding a lot of tension in my shoulders. This led me to tune into to my shoulders and consciously send care and my breath to this part of my body. As I turned towards my thoughts, I acknowledged my tendency to get stuck in scarcity thinking about the cost of rebuilding the rock wall and paying for the hospital bills. My moment of mindful breathing and observation also clued me into many other feelings I needed to acknowledge about the prior day, but also auxiliary stressors in my life. When we pay attention to our feelings and grief, it can alert us to other components of our life that need our attention and care. I try to practice mindfulness daily and when I do it allows me to compassionately bear witness to myself.
In my past there have been seasons where I have lived cut off from my feelings, body, and innermost thoughts. This art of sacred witness reminds me to keep showing up for myself and others, but to also let safe loved ones bear sacred witness to my life.
The practice of sacred witness reminds me to encounter myself and others with awe and reverence. Sacred witness provides you with an opportunity to be seen, loved, heard, known, and held by your own self and others. I invite you to breathe more intentionally so you can create the space to notice what is happening inside of you. I implore you to find safe people and perhaps also a Divine power greater than you, to hold space for your feelings and needs. Allow the untold stories inside of you to be witnessed and held. Whether it is a therapist, clergy person, spiritual director, coach, loved one, support group, or God, give yourself the gift of a Sacred Witness. I promise you are worth it.
A version of this article was first published in The Mountain Mirror.
