(Written in September 2008)
Another bad night. Heat in my chest and elbows — I think I remember that one from ‘96. I’m doing my best to accept whatever is going on, thinking of it as a shamanic illness. I have no idea what’s happening to me. It’s OK to not know.
Have mercy upon me.
I offer myself to this process.
At least I’m not terrified. I do feel sleepy. I think about my friend Eleanor. Fellow soldier in a difficult war. A severe practice. I keep hearing the music of the Oratorium in my head.
I’m not going to leave you. I’m going to stay right here next to you. You don’t have to do or be anything different than you are.
Sue Monk Kidd, When the Heart Waits: “… some new struggle toward wholeness gestating within. That’s the sacred intent of life, of God — to move us continuously toward growth, toward recovering all that is lost and orphaned within us and restoring the divine image imprinted on our soul.” p4
“Waiting does provide the time and space necessary for grace to happen.” p 13
Listening to Oratorium. Lost in a vast landscape. Where’s that loving god who welcomed me at the Gate of Heaven? And my heart warms. And cold and lost again, frozen & numb.
I have to believe that some part of me, outside ordinary consciousness, is using this opportunity to heal some very deep wounds. I feel like a witness to some enormous disaster who is frozen by shock and can’t do anything to help.