Reclaiming Hope, Inspiration, and Strength
Feeling lost and alone, whether due to specific circumstances or existential angst, is an inescapable part of being human. It’s not a matter of if but when we find ourselves on our knees, struggling to breathe after a loss, heartbreak, or a significant life challenge. Our strength, patience, and resilience will be tested, often more than once.
As a professional counselor, I have witnessed much despair, but I have also seen the incredible growth and resilience that can emerge from people’s darkest times. The saying ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ - and I would add wiser - can indeed apply in the aftermath of significant challenges if we can find a way out of their shadow. But when we are deeply suffering - how can we unearth hope and resilience when we feel anything but hopeful and strong?
Through my personal and professional experiences, I've come to believe that there's no stronger salve for the soul than feeling connected to something bigger than ourselves or to another. Whether it's in nature (my personal go-to), one’s faith, or a family member, friend, partner, colleague, counselor, or even a compassionate stranger, these connections outside of ourselves can serve as powerful catalysts for restoring hope and strength - and sometimes in the most unexpected ways.
In 2015, I was reminded of the restorative power of connection. At the time, I was directing a women’s health retreat in Vermont and preparing to teach a class - a class I had taught countless times for more than two years. For some reason, I started my class by reciting one of my favorite poems. After reading it, I noticed a woman silently crying in the back of the room. At the time, I thought the poem’s depth had moved her to tears - and it did - but for a reason that still gives me goosebumps nine years later.
At the end of class, I approached this woman and asked if she was okay. She beamed a big smile and shared that she had come to the retreat because she had lost her husband to cancer in the past year. Inwardly, I was confused to see her wide grin while sharing this information, but I expressed my condolences for her loss. She said they had a happy, long marriage until he was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and she became his caretaker in the final months and days of his life. Nine months after her husband passed, this woman came to the health retreat hoping to escape the unrelenting monotony of her grief and loneliness. The poem I had read in class that day was the poem she and her husband had chosen as a part of their wedding vows. She had cried upon hearing it because she felt this was a message from him. I then revealed to her that I had never shared that poem in a class before that day, and she began to cry again while laughing in delight.
On that day nine years ago, she needed to hear this poem as much as I needed to witness her story. This woman needed to feel comforted in her grief, and I needed to be reminded that even when feeling alone, we are never truly alone. I know I didn’t directly help ease this woman’s grief that day, but a presence did through me. I know - sounds woo-woo - and for anyone who knows me, I’m anything but that. But there is no other explanation, and simple coincidence doesn’t cut it. This unique experience - along with witnessing people’s stories over two decades - has shown me that hope and inspiration can be birthed from the least expected connections and often when they are most needed.
I have not shared this poem in a class, blog, or anywhere else since that day. So maybe you - dear reader - or someone you care about needs to read this poem on this particular day for renewed hope and inspiration like that woman and I needed nine years ago. This poem is about hope, resiliency, and staying true to yourself no matter the obstacles that stand in your way.
The Invitation
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals, or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine, or your own; if you can dance with the wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself, if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul, if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it's not pretty, every day and if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
—Oriah Mountain Dreamer
Erin Risius is a licensed professional counselor, wellness educator, wisdom seeker, and lifelong learner of all things related to mental health and wellness. She specializes in health and eating psychology, clinician and service provider support, and women’s issues.