"...Maybe a great magnet pulls
all souls toward the truth
Or maybe it is life itself
that feeds wisdom
to its youth..."
I was listening to k.d. lang's "Constant Craving" this evening as it shuffled through my ipod playlist and was struck by the feeling of hope and sorrow, joy and regret, desire and satisfaction it seems to evoke...all at once. At the same time I came across this poem from "another lifetime" and together they seemed to speak to me of "that one true thing" which my friend, Sandy, reminded me of a few weeks ago, when he said, "we are all, always, just seeking wholeness."
"Yes," I thought, "this is true." In my times of sorrow and joy, pain and delight, fear and courage...I am always "just seeking wholeness." When my search is focused within my own being, I am in a space of hope...when I let that search for wholeness wander beyond the bounds of my own consciousness...that space of inner stillness where the "never-the-less-ness" of my relationship with God is intact...I feel fear, sorrow, regret.
And yet, even then, I am whole. Because God is all and everywhere, even in my moments of despair and anguish, confusion and doubt, I am sent deeper and deeper into the search for this wholeness which is always calling to me...into the only space where wholeness can ever really be found...within. And it is in this "within" space that I find that sorrow and joy are not polar opposites, but inverted images which remind us that we have known the truth, even when all we can see is its reverse.
Our experience is not half sorrowful and half joyous...but a wholeness that is always intact, because God is always present. The moments that seem ripe with frustration are the perfect canvas on which to paint our patience. The days that appear dreary, are but a reminder of how much we love the sunlight. How else could Mary Baker Eddy write, "Sorrow is salutary." or "Trials are proofs of God's care." Hmmm....so much to ponder tonight...
Kahlil Gibran wrote:
"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."
The heartache of a broken friendship stems from the same relationship that once brought the greatest joy...or it wouldn't hurt so badly. Remembering this, I can go deeply into my heart's archives and resurrect those sentiments that once gave impulse to generosity and selflessness. Once found, I am able to dust them off, polish them up, and put them back where they belong, into the repertoire of my heart's utility.
Discovering this poem tonight, I am reminded of how that moment of misunderstanding and regret that gave birth to my realization of all that I'd originally known of love through that friendship. It led to this simple doorway towards healing. It was a precious gift...I share it here:
my heart stops
our
silken, buttery
words
soft with
sweetness of
intent and
gentle
humor
has cut like a hot knife...
precise
and accurate...
we know
each other
so
well
sharp,
serrated,
no nonsense,
sans serif
characters
just the right
words
lined up like
small tin soldiers
with painted smiles
peeling in the
harsh light of
"well-meaning"
helpfulness
in their hands...
unbeknownst to us...
flower-disguised
bayonets
stand
ready to
pierce and
poke
at
something we thought
was
strong
and safe...
but
discovered
was
a softer,
more vulnerable
space than
we ever
even guessed
misunderstandings
judgments
assumptions
conclusions
convictions
hurt
penalties
rejection
distance
distance
distance
lines drawn
in
cold,
hard, wet
sand
I want to hold
my
breath
until my heart
stops
beating
until the
words disappear
with the
absence of air
until
sadness,
guilt,
regret
dissipate like
hovering
fog
in the quiet
harbor
just before dawn
on a late
June morning
in Maine
the fear of
misunderstanding...
or having
been misunderstood...
lingers in the
air
a palpable
pressure
on
the surface tension of
our friendship
but there is
something
else
that begins
to
rise
from that dark
cold pool of
regretted,
and regrettable,
words
it
radiates out
it
presses up against
the descent of
sorrow
and loss
and
I think
it is
hope
yes,
it is hope...
and
suddenly I
can
see
that
she is,
I am,
we are
all,
only
children
with
tender hearts
the truth is,
we are
the innocent
seeking
something so
simple
we
want to
feel
understood and
trusted
we want it
more than we
want to
be right
we only
want to
be
known
this
simple
knowing of myself
as I am known
stops the pain.
I am
breathing
again
long, deep
thirsty
draughts of
hope and
promise
so I
pick up
the phone
and
hope
and
hope
and
hope...
and when she
answers:
"Hi...I'm sorry..."
offered with Love,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS
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