It was a gift to share space with all of you on the call. I'm sharing my Weather Report here.

The collective wisdom and compassion of our community continue to amaze and inspire me. And I’m so happy that after attending many pods at ServiceSpace, and especially the New Story Pod, I am able to use the pronoun “our” community with belonging and confidence. Thank you for creating such an enchanting space that seems to vibrate with a life of its own. Slipping into this space, at the end of my workday, is like entering a different, more compassionate world where everyone matters. And that gives me a lot of hope.

It’s a privilege to share this week’s weather report in the presence of so many strangers, now turned friends. Thank you for honouring me with a peek into your life. For being vulnerable, for sharing your hurt, celebrating your joy, for making me laugh, making me cry, for including me in your moments of realisation and for showing me how we are unique, and yet so much the same. And in living through your stories, I lowered my walls too, sharing from my heart, and receiving love, oh so much love, that the possibility of “not healing” feels improbable.

Vincent’s story of how he spent time with his father when his father had Alzheimer’s, how the disease finally erased all memory but not the love and harmony that held them both till the end.

Simone’s story of how she and a group of volunteers visit the refugees at the bank of the river, take their dirty clothes home to wash them, dry them, iron them and return.

TomBessarar’s story of his inner turmoil about whether he was offering “unconditional love” to his wife … while he writes her love letters, attended therapies, makes her breakfast and coffee, while avoiding noise so she can sleep.

Kapils’ story of how he better understood the point of view of people who spoke against vaccination, simply by listening. And how that created a space where he could share his own point of view and how both sides gained knowledge and compassion.

On Day 12, my heart felt raw, reading the many stories of loss and suffering. Responding to the posts with a heart was the simplest way to say “I hear you” as no words could express the solidarity that arose, I think in many of us.

I wish I could share all our stories. But unlike the unlimited capacity of our hearts, our time here is bound. So instead, here's a poem. It’s an ode to the Story Pod really because it’s reignited an old love, I had kind of lost – my love for singing.

How they weave, weave, weave,
how they spin, spin, spin,
how they fall on my heart,
oh ... so gentle, like the wind.

And they talk, talk, talk,
and they listen, listen in,
with the warmth of their words,
they hold us all and all within.

And they love, love, love,
and they raise you above,
teach you how to take a step,
with a pat and gentle shove.

And they do it without,
any rulebook or a shout,
just the thrum of our hearts,
weaving through us in and out.

And we laugh, laugh, laugh,
and we cry, cry, cry,
and we bond like a band,
rainbow coloured, grains of sand.

And we heal, heal, heal,
and we grow, grow, grow,
With no hellos or goodbyes ...
Noble friends, thank you for passing by.

Love and prayers for all,

Monica