A Sacred Invitation

Lately, I’ve quietly wondered if I still have it in me to do this work. I know that voice isn’t coming from my Core Self but from a part of me that still carries the meaning of past hurt, stirred by something now.

At the same time, I find it courageous to say this out loud, and wonder how I would feel if someone said this to me. My first reaction might be tentative—a younger part might feel afraid. Over time, though, it would help me feel less alone—and give me permission to be honest, to show my pain without carrying the shame I once felt.

I've come to call this kind of quiet reflection a sacred invitation. I invite others to discover that they carry far more within them than they often realize, and that moments of self-doubt don’t define their worth. It’s often in those moments that our inner light shines brightest—when we're willing to see and hold an old wound with the healing salve of our compassion—and the fullness of our humanness.

I often begin my sessions with a meditation, by gently offering this invitation—to the patient, and to the wounded parts inside: We’re doing this work together, and you’re not alone in this process.

I strongly believe that this is the greatest gift I can offer my patients—and ultimately, a healing gift they can also give to themselves and others in their lives. I also think of this as a gift to myself—a gift to my own healing.

In Jewish biblical and mystical traditions, this is known as dibbur emet—speaking truth. It calls for truthfulness spoken with compassion, integrity, and healing intention—transforming speech into a sacred act that connects rather than harms, that empowers rather than shames.

Dibbur emet may sound simple—but it's profoundly transformative—for both my patients and myself, and for all we touch with our hearts. Many of these teachings deeply resonate with what I've learned from SueAnne Piliero, the founder of Core Self Reclamation Therapy (CSRT).

For therapists and healers, our task is to help others see—and hold—their own light, their invisible radiance, the energy coming from within, in the warmth of honest and compassionate presence—which CSRT calls fierce love. That energy—that inner light—is the Core Self: sometimes obscured by difficult times, but always shining, waiting to be reclaimed.

When I speak with dibbur emet, I'm not trying to fix or rescue; I'm simply illuminating—shining a light. My intention is to serve as a bridge to the Self—to help make visible what has long been hidden in the shadows.

In this work, I aim to create a safe container in our relationship, grounded in the one I carry within myself—so the patient can begin to create their own, where each part can be welcomed home to the light that has always been there.

The patient can then see that the wounded parts acted out of a need to survive. But now they are no longer stuck in the past and can begin to heal and thrive. Like the photo above, they realize that their adult self—the one the child grew up to be—can become the internal caregiver for the wounded child parts—like a loving parent to themselves.

Then, the child part we've been tending to can finally rest with the others—not as a wound, but as a quiet truth, held tenderly in the heart.

If you’re in therapy and feeling stuck, or work with or support those who are—or perhaps are only beginning to consider it, I invite you to remember: You're not alone. Your struggles make sense. And your light—even if invisible to you—is still there.

You don't need to perform, be perfect, or rush. You are invited to arrive exactly as you are, and to move at your own pace. It’s a healing dance we do together—one that helps create a corrective experience, both inside and between us, where we come to see what is right and true.

Healing isn’t about becoming someone new; it’s about returning to who you’ve always been. It‘s about remembering the wholeness and healing energy that have been there all along.

May we each learn to honor the sacred truth—in ourselves, in those we care for, and in each other. And may we keep returning, again and again, to that quiet place inside that holds us steady, no matter how dark the world may feel.

Lest you forget, remember these words—and the image of those who hold the light for you—past and present. Remember yourself—moving closer to the lost ones inside and around you, carrying your own light, even if some can’t yet receive it.

Let’s keep spreading the light of invisibility, one flicker, one star at a time—so we can find each other in the dark.

I don’t need to be right. I delight in the person you are and are becoming—that you were always meant to be. There is a way back home, and we are seen—all of us, even the parts that have tried to hide and be invisible.

As I reflect on my own journey, I often think of Yusuf Islam / Cat Stevens—his fierce, loving voice, calling us to live fully with authenticity and empathy—taking back the power we were all born with. His song, But I Might Die Tonight, is one of those calls, which mirrors my own.

That’s what keeps me waking up to another day—trying to make a difference—coming home to myself, even in the midst of so much suffering, close to home and around the world.

This is a blessing—for you, for me, for all of us. It’s a sacred invitation: a place to end and to begin—so we remember we are already home, even when we feel lost—or pass on, to the place that holds our spirit.

Thank you.

Learn more about CSRT here.

Comments or questions? Email me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold close or long to be held.

Dr. Cecil is a licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. He specializes in treating complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma, bringing therapy to life through heartfelt stories and images of connection and healing that emerge from the light of invisibility.