In the presence of perfect love

“I think I need to do a 17 day ritual leading up to my birthday,” I tell Jen. “And I think it needs to be about shedding.”

I pause.

I continue.

“But… that’s like… scary as fuck.”

“Rach, what’s going on with you? You’ve got this thing where you’re really into saying that whatever’s totally correct and good for you is ‘scary as fuck’.”

I circle around explaining how this isn’t true for 15 minutes, until we land back in the same spot, and it’s clear that I’m simply… afraid of what’s totally correct and good for me. (Jen always nails me a few minutes–or months, or years–before I’m ready to be nailed. I love her for this.) I’ve got illusions that my power, my bigness and my growth will create separation between me and the people I love, and I’ll lose friends. It’s an illusion rooted in the illusion of separateness in general, when we all know that¬†oneness is the truth.

But that’s not the point. The point is what happened in the rest of this conversation:

“Rach. Remember the other day when you called whimpering, and I asked if you were scared, and you said ‘Yes.’ and I simply responded with, ‘I love you. I love you so much.'”

“Yeah. That made everything better. I didn’t need anything else.”

“Exactly,” said Jen. “Fear melts into nothingness in the presence of perfect love.”

(She really says shit like this, people. And she really means it. From her whole heart.)

And then she continues to divine my ritual for me. (Again, with her eyes closed, as easy as breathing.)

“Every day, for 17 days, you’ll write out your fears. You’ll put them in a metal bowl. And you’ll burn them. You’ll say aloud, ‘My fears melt into nothingness in the presence of perfect love. I am love. You are love. We are love. Everything belongs.’ And then you’ll feel the truth of it. You’ll face the sky and let the love in. That’s it.”

“Ahhhh, that’s perfect. But… do you think I can invite other people to do it with me? Because I really got the sense that I should invite people to do it with me.”

“Yeah, sure. But only if you hold no space for them. Just put the invitation out there and let them do it, too, if they want. No therapizing or creating something for them.”

“Perfect. I’ll just make a hashtag… #inthepresenceofperfectlove. And do my thing.”


“I love you, Jen.”

“I love you, too, Rachey Rach.”

So. It’s happening. Beginning this Sunday, February 1st. A 17 day ritual called In The Presence of Perfect Love. I won’t be sending prompts or creating a page or anything like that. I’ll just be doing my ritual, taking a photo, and hashtagging it #inthepresencecofperfectlove. You can do it, too, if you feel like you’re in the same boat of hoarding fear when the truth is love, or attaching to anxiety when the light would like to release you.

The Marching Orders:

Wake up & write your fears on tiny slips of ripped up paper.
Toss ’em in the bowl.
Burn ’em.
Whisper (or wail) these words aloud,
My fears melt into nothingness in the presence of perfect love. I am love. You are love. We are love. Everything belongs.
Feel the anxiety soften.
Put your face to the sky.
Let the love in.
Take a photo.
And hashtag it #inthepresenceofperfectlove.

Who’s in?

I love you. So much,

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