From my journal for yesterday:
WholeHeart: poem is Making Peace by Denise Levertov
“If we restructured the sentence our lives are making.”
The sentence my life is making. It definitely needs to be restructured.
Trauma becomes initiation.
Abuse becomes siding with the underdog.
“Don’t think you’re so great” becomes I share what I love with enthusiasm.
Lost in outer darkness becomes… I don’t know. Maybe a song about grief.
Grief is the everlasting flow of a never-ending river,
grief allowed, shared, listened to becomes a
bigger space to live,
a community in which one can be real,
share what hurts, be vulnerable and creative and silly.
What I wrote this morning;
I feel completely different. I feel solid, grounded, legitimate. I have rewritten the sentence my life is making.
I think I must be trusting the larger process, that there is something much bigger going on, that people are waking up. I can’t believe for a moment that Thump will win the election. I know that COVID is happening, that people are suffering, and I hold out my arms in a welcoming hug. I know that we are poisoning the planet — maybe I have a sense that the forces that are reweaving health are bigger. I was thinking yesterday that I have faith that nothing is meaningless, even tho it can look that way, that there is meaning in the bigger picture that’s too big for us to see.
Little pink clouds are appearing in blue sky behind trees that are full of big holes where leaves have fallen.
What events in my life have contributed to this? Grief group on Zoom. WholeHeart. Reading Accidental Saints and how God uses and forgives and redeems our mistakes and cruelties. Reading the book about energy healing and changing beliefs. Reading the book Beverly recommended — Sand Talk — by a Native Australian about Indigenous Land-based ways of looking at the world: such a vastly different way of seeing. And there was a daily good, that I can’t remember right now, that I posted on facebook — I’ve hardly looked at facebook in the last week — this complete inability to remember happened about Bob’s talk, tho I did remember when I started to write. It’s very disconcerting, this inability to remember. I’m only a little worried about it, because I suspect it’s part of a restructuring of my operating system, and I’m surrendering to that process.
There was a whole thing in the energy healing book about creating what you want in your life. Creating a detailed intention and holding to it. But I think of how I got to Stonehenge the second time — “I’ll have to get back to Stonehenge” was the sum total of my “intention.” And the time that Conrad and Julia showed up when I thought “I want something. If I were still living in Arlington, I’d go into Harvard Square…” when I saw C and J I thought “Intellectual conversation! That’s what I want!”
I cheated and looked up the Daily Good: Krista Tippett interviewing angel Kyodo williams, a Black female Zen master. She is talking about the huge movement toward human wholeness. Reminds me that Nkem Ndefo, another Black woman, has been a huge part of me being able to accept numbness as a legitimate way to protect myself.
My god! I’ve done a good job with the tough hand I was dealt!
I went down to the window to look for the pink clouds, which were gone, and the sun is up, and saw the strong green leaves that the “dead” narcissus bulbs are putting out. Did I love them back into life? I feel redeemed, and forgiven, and showered with grace.
O yes I also went back and read about my weekend with Teresa, how rich it was, and followed the link to Nadia at ELCA. “God will use your mistakes and failures…”
Back to the issue of creating what I want — but the only thing I’ve wanted is more engagement with people who are being real — and to do god’s will. MLK: “and He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain, and I’ve seen the Promised Land…”
… to do whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing here at Kendal. “You’re already doing it.”
I imagine I won’t lose this place. I think of all the other times I’ve “arrived” and thought “I’ve done it!” and then fell back down. But those times were when I felt like I had come out on top of the cliff I’d been climbing, or gotten out of the Pit. Now I feel more like I’m down inside, solid and strong, supported by the earth that holds me. Getting out the “Pieces of Iona” for Grief group reminded me of the time, sitting in Findhorn’s retreat house on Iona, I sent a root down to find bedrock, and the rock opened and welcomed me in.
“I can do something completely new!” I tried two little things that I’ve been scared to do.