Hi Maggie,
I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep. Then the barrage happened. I don't know if I can remember it all, but I am going to share what I can. I actually sat up, took notes...then I never went back to sleep. Today was a long day of work.
I was awake, thinking about love...what is the opposite of love? Until now I would have said apathy. But in the middle of the night, I thought, the opposite of love is pain. Love is creating a safe place, a sanctuary for the beloved. It is a place where we are safe and protected, a place with little pain...we are human after all - can't expect perfection.
When we experience pain, we have a choice. We can harden ourselves, protect ourselves, and be prepared to lash back. Or we can soften ourselves and feel the pain. Feeling the pain then softens us, makes us wiser, makes us loving, makes it harder to hurt us...
That doesn't mean stand still and be abused. I am not sure what it means, but I know we are not supposed to feed their rage with our obedience...Or maybe it does. I am not sure.
But I think this is the message of the Christ, of Gandhi, of Mandela, of the women who fought for the right to vote, of the activists. And suddenly, those who cause the greatest pain are our best teachers.They are the ones who free us to love. It seemed that maybe the escalation of pain is the tool that will put us into our heart and force us to evolve.
Those who cause us the most pain are those who are in the most pain. They have accepted the role of being abused so they could join the pain-givers, to help lead us into humane-ity. Or else they teach us about endurance and loving-kindness. I am thinking about some of the abused dogs who remain so kind and forgiving and loving. I'm thinking about abused people, animals, veggies, planets...
And I was thinking about Papa and the pain he caused. I was thinking about the fact that I don't really miss him. I decided to feel the pain. I went back to that "dream", the one with the beautiful sleeping Anne Geddes baby curled up on the big hand, the one that made me scream in my sleep. The one where, even awake, I could not make my mind stop screaming. I went there and instead of screaming, I stepped into it.And there was pain. Every part of my body hurt. My feet hurt. And I was aware of three of my chakras shattering. It hurt. It hurt so much. I just let it roll through me.
And in the middle of the night, alone in the dark, I was shaking, and there were tears running down my cheeks. And I thought, this is why I eat sugar. This is what I don't want to feel.
And I went to my rape, and I felt. I felt like someone laid boards on my chest. I felt like I was being pressed alive. I could not breathe. It was a different pain. But it hurt. Again...my body hurt, my emotional self hurt, my psyche hurt. And I just felt the pain. I let it roll over me and through me. And I was surviving. I was softening. I was forgiving and releasing.
Again I thought, this is why I eat sugar. I don't want to feel this. Sugar, flour numb this. But this, it rolled away. I survived. I learned it does not last.
A few days ago I found a fledgling that had fallen out of a nest. I could not find the nest. The feathers looked weak, and not completely there. I posted on a birdwatchers board and found it was, as suspected, a mourning dove.
And I remembered the mourning dove from five years ago. Do you remember? My grandson and I found it in the garden. A predator, probably the neighbor's huge white cat, had removed all of it's flight feathers on one wing. We moved it inside and kept it safe for about six weeks, maybe, and let it go once the feathers grewback. It flew away.
I thought of my marriage, and the ways we hurt each other, grabbing at feathers and removing them. We were both damaged.
And those five weeks in a cage, seemed like my years here without a car. Healing time. Finding my feathers. Regrowing myself.
And Grandma came close and kissed my forehead, my third eye. And I sobbed.
I am crying again, as I write...
Because we have to feel the pain. We have to trust it and treasure it. That is how we become powerful and gentle...a powerhouse of love, a safe place...a walking sanctuary.
There was so much more...I am caught in this much...
Again, though, write the book. And again from me - I am so tired. I need to know I am supported. I need to not get up at 5 am and sit at a desk until mid or late afternoon. I am tired....
A small voice said, maybe I could start. But I am roiling. I don't even know where to start.
And by goddess, I am tired...
But I am thinking. And I am feeling...and I am grateful!
Love and hugs from Clare
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