This crying thing is getting out of hand. Inexplicable tears for more than a day or two seems a little extreme, doesn't it? I was praying for my friend Lisa today, empathizing with the depth of her sorrow, having been separated by death from the physical bodies of her husband. Her daughter. Her brother. Her 20 year old son. And not all at once, but protracted, over ten years or more. More loss piled upon more loss. How does she go on living? How does the heart survive?
I've been thinking that my heart is breaking but I realized today that my heart is not breaking and I am experiencing no loss per se`. I'm not greiving anything! What I'm experiencing is the new fear that comes with having opened my heart further to love more deeply. It's terrifying, really. It's feels about as safe as walking in a desert windstorm with your heart outside your chest, unprotected from being swept from your hands.
I cry because it's a sensual, physiological reaction to my fear of the unknown and the startling realization of the level of courage I need to gather to become this thing that I have been called to. I recall my own suffering with illness in childhood and the hundreds if not thousands of times I was "bitten" by the sharpness of yet another needle, administering hope to my poor mother than I wouldn't die from asthmu. I have no recollection of ever thinking I might actually die from not being able to breathe. How is that for magical thinking? Maybe that is where my faith was born.
If you are so inclined, say a healing prayer now for Lisa and Calvin and Paul and Heather and Trevor. That they may be united in spirit.
Namaste,
Connie
No comments:
Post a Comment