Monday Morning~~
They say there is such as phenomenon as the "dark night of the soul". I don't think this is an isolated happening, in any life...But, rather, a series of chapters of growth, where we are all alone in the dark, afraid, longing for comfort, longing for the light..
Some of us call to our mommies, some of us whistle, some of us numb ourselves with drug, or drink. Most of us pray, pray as we whistle, pray as we drink, pray as we drug...All of us, i think, move thru the darkness with the bogeyman over our shoulder, all of us grow in wisdom, in experience, as we walk that dark corridor that we hope we never see again.
Do i think that suffering is necessary for growth? With a heavy heart, wishing i could say elsewise, i say, unequivocally, YES.
Maybe the saints were right, all along. Personally, the many avenues of pain i have suffered, have not killed me, just made me stronger.
I am not discounting the bird in flight, the beauty of the blossom, the scent of lavender. I am not discounting the delicacy of a hand held, or the tears of joy in the throes of intimacy.
I am only saying, have the courage to walk thru the darkest of nights...the darkness that flows from the physical world we inhabit, the even darker state of our minds, as we leave familiarity, leave relationships, leave the known.
I want to meet Christopher Columbus in heaven. He sailed the ocean, deep and vast and magnificent, with only his instincts and dreams leading him to a horizon others said was flat.
Go for it. Christopher was right. You don't drop off the horizon. The world is round, not flat.
I am back, the mermaid beached on the shore, gasping for breath. I have walked my dark night, weeping over my separation from my front porch swing, my son, my love, Todd, my proximity to all that is known and dear.
I am back, growling at the lack of money, the unpaid bills. I am strengthening my backbone, as Justin, the child i wanted to save from pain, runs back to it, to Michigan.
I walked 5 miles on the beach this morning, my companions my aching feet, sandpipers, and bits of broken shell.
The wild ponies raced along the water, and i heard, impossibly, a redbird cry my beloved"pretty, pretty, pretty". I walked slow, the flowered backpack i thought i should discard filled with water, a pen, paper, and my keys.
I asked God...why did i do this crazy thing? Why am i here?
All i heard was the rhythm of the water. All i saw was the sleek line of sky and sea.I asked for a sign...i prayed for work....
I wanted something spectacular...dolphins arcing in play..a perfect conch shell.
Instead.....
I got a walking stick..Driftwood, with a gnarled edge, a rounded shape..yet, perfectly fitted to my height and hand.
So...thanks, God. For being there thru my "darkest night"..Not miraculous transporting me out of my pain, but giving me a walking stick. later.