To Cure Means to Sorrow for Something


What is it that your life has accumulated?  Imagine, for a moment - [breathe] - all those things, those experiences, the choices and where there was no choice - that you have acknowledged, on some conscious level, to yourself.  To others.  [pause for breathing].  Now imagine the possibilities around all that you have not acknowledged but nonetheless, the markings left somewhere on or in you, perhaps deep and unseen, the sight of which, remains a mystery, the way an unsuspecting piece of granite might sit on a shaded mountainside, where there are no trails.  What is it like?  To sorrow for the things of your life - the injury of rejection, of abandonment, of silence.  Of something gone dark.  The impact of omissions of attention and care.  The way this has settled into your bones.  When you needed to be soothed and held - the supportive touch that never came.  The places in you that have not known love - these neglected parts that live in a quiet, sinking despair.  What happens when you look into the shadows of your life and see who lives there?  The tattered and withered version of yourself that sits there hungry and alone.  The parts of you that feel too unworthy for your own tears - the beauty that rides the waves of your own compassion.  Remember, your wounds - they are not a commentary on your worth.  Those feelings that linger in your soul, like a primitive agony, pulling you toward anxiety and depression - where painful emotions and unpleasant feelings are not picked up and handled in careful, attentive ways.  [breathe].  Is there space for me to speak to the edges of your vulnerability?  [breathe].  Your deepest self has been longing to meet this place - this unknown landscape, buried, protectively, underneath your heart and behind the framing of your ribs - this divine acknowledgment.  This allowance for your own gentle presence, for support.  Can you choose more love?  Can you feel with breath?  This new landscape surrounding you, giving you more room to grow what you choose.  Do you feel the gift of your own allowance, your softening, your trust...[breathe]...don't look back.  You are here now in this moment to feel all of this oldness and newness that has been carved out in you.  To sorrow for something.  Can you see the the gift in what you may resist?  The energy that rests patiently on the other side of fear.

What {who} takes care of you?  What {who} supports and holds you?  What {who} nourishes and sustains you?  

This time to quiet.  The unfinished business of your heart.  Your broken heart.  Can you feel all of this against your breath?  Can you honor the tears that you carry?

Can you breathe into this beautiful world of yourself?  This magnificent terrain, miles and miles deep.  There.  Just waiting for you.  Beating for you.  Like this...bu-dhup...bu-dhup...bu-dhup...

"I'm here for you," I imagine.