The Flip Side of Healing

So, the confession.

The flip side of being a healer is finding myself causing harm. Harm is the incoherency of the act of healing.

I have spent the past two months in a soap opera. I hate opera. And I especially eschew soap opera. But I found myself cast in one of my own making...taking messages from the dreamtime...weaving them into waking time...spinning a web, I suppose.

Have you ever seen the writing spider? Those HUGE eight legged, hour glass shaped, black and white with a big yellow star kind of spiders, that reveal themselves in Virginia, round about August? According to the Lakota, she was given the medicine of keeping the alphabet, which allowed the stories of the tribes to be permanently recorded, which of course, changed everything and the tradition of story telling soon took on numerous and ultimately, inane forms of communication. She is the totem for the writer, hers is our medicine. But I digress.

MY actions and choices of the past two months have colluded with another to create tremendous and unspeakable heartache. For this I am deeply sorry. I have been blind, selfish, inconsiderate. Such is the language of Desire, I see now. I apologize. May I be forgiven. May Karma be swift and fair.