You are here. Slide your hands under her head; make of them a cradle. Stop repeating the myth about love and success that will land in your lap or evade you forever... feel the draw of breath. Anchor your seat and feet. Follow where the head wants to roll. From midline, rock on the sitzbones.
There is nothing more glorious on the face of the earth than someone who refuses to give up. Build a humble, flawed life. Track the breath as your fingertips find the soft notch of the occiput. Nothing is more fabulous than someone who refuses to give in to their most self-hating, discouraged, disillusioned self. Let the weight of her head fall back onto the pads of your fingertips. Relish the feeling of building a hut in the middle of the suffocating dust. Cherish this.