Being Here
Read or listen… and discover what happens to your baggage.
Read or listen... and let yourself arrive. Notice what you find.
Thank you for being here.
I smile every time I hear these words, but there's a part of me that wants to say more… that you did the work, not me.
But then I pause and remember how I always tell my clients that we're doing this work together.
Leading with my Core Self, I look them in the eyes and say, "Thank you for being here, too... I know it wasn't easy. I hope you can stick around for a while."
They smile and say, “Yeah, the little guy inside yanks on my heart at times, but I just tell them that they live here now with me, the person they’ve become and were always meant to be… I’m their guide. No one is going to hurt them anymore—even when I travel overseas.”
Taking a deep breath together, I think to myself that wasn't so easy for me either. My little guy was a little scared at times.
He thought he might lose that one, but he knows that I’m here now and he’s not alone anymore. I’m driving the car. I can feel my heart slowing down, confirming that he hears what I’m saying.
With pride, I was telling my supervisor about this the other day. She nodded in approval but added, “You’ve been working so hard… It might be good to take a break.”
I told her in my humble, almost humorous way, “Give me a break… I just got back from vacation. You might want to do the same.”
I gently reminded her of the time we were in Israel on the West Bank—doing a little countryside sightseeing before teaching a group of Israeli therapists how to work experientially with trauma… They also taught me a lot.
I’m grateful that I was just an EA, an Experiential Assistant—a witness, and not making history—like many of them… but not untouched.
Those were the good old days… before there were more wars. I can still feel the mud on my body and remember washing it off in the Dead Sea.
There was something about that experience that helped me feel alive again. It‘s like I’m coming home to my childhood roots, feeling the heavy water holding up my body—and not sinking.
Just checking with all of you. “What do you notice now—inside and out?”
Thank you for being here with me. I hope you can stay a while and join me again sometime.
Interesting aside… I recently told an older gentleman who served in Vietnam, “Thank you for your service.”
He just smiled and said that everyone always tells him that. Looking toward the ground, he added, “I wish I could tell them that I felt like we were doing this work together.”
I nod my head and gaze into his eyes, thinking to myself, “Me too,” patiently waiting for the words to arrive—from each of us.
Shaking his head, he thoughtfully states, “I’m glad you’re here now, but that’s not what I felt back then... It was really hard coming home…being here. It still is.”
My luggage just arrived... and there’s my dog too. Now I know we’re in the light of invisibility.
Thank you for being here… the Cat guy knows what this means. The journey teaches us a lot. Now I know why I went and need to go again.
And why it’s good to come back home.
Take a moment to watch the video below, and you’ll know more.
Much less baggage and jet lag… Lots of light, I hope.
All of us belong here
Dedication: To all those on this journey of heart, moving from room to room, remembering themselves—and who we are together. This includes our dogs and cats, waiting patiently for us to arrive and come home.
Gratitude: With appreciation for those who have shared their light and sweetness with me over the years—and received mine in return.
Confidentiality note: This piece was inspired by someone close to my heart, but is a composite of many people I know—inside and outside of therapy. Any resemblance to your own life or our shared experience is both coincidental and universal—reminding us that our stories echo one another in the fabric of human experience.
Comments or questions? You’re welcome to reach me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold close… or long to be closer to.
About me: Besides being a writer, Marc Cecil is a doctoral-level licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. An experienced psychotherapist, supervisor, consultant, and teacher, Marc uses an integrated experiential model called Core Self Integration Therapy (CSIT)—grounded in our capacity for adaptive change—to help people heal from complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma. Some refer to it as Elephant Work—standing solidly in the healing power of accompaniment.
Dr. Cecil lives in Vermont near the shores of Lake Bomoseen, where his heartfelt stories and images of connection arise from the light of invisibility—bringing life to therapy and therapy to life.
Stay tuned for more—as this living model continues to grow—with self-compassion leading the way around the world… and back home.