True Love

This winter has been especially difficult for me. Maybe you can relate.

I feel in some ways that I have been dismantled by the difficulty of this season. In fact, I think I am probably writing from right inside the middle of the dismantling process, and not from on the other side of it just yet. 

Perhaps the dismantling is unrelated to winter, and more related to aging. Perhaps, as I commit myself to engaging more authentically in the reality of world I am living in, I am just more aware of the difficulty. Perhaps, prior to now, I was using the naivete of my own mostly satisfying young adult life to try to defend myself against the reality of unavoidable, un-fixable human heart-break. 

As a person devoted to learning how to be with people in their own experiences of heart-break, I look back now on my first few years practicing this art, and wonder if my clients ever felt abandoned or disappointed by my unconscious attitude that "things can and will get better with the right kind of hard work". Because lately, I have been learning the exact opposite lesson. The lesson that says, "even if you do everything right, tragedy can and may still find you". 

It can find you despite all your hyper-vigilance and preventive practices. It can come and find you while you're sound asleep inside the safety of your own spiritual or psychological resiliency. It can set up camp right in the center of your own human heart... making the safest, most authentic place for you to dwell, also the most excruciating place to try sit down and take stock.

So, for now, I feel like I am trying to locate myself again... trying to find my new perimeter, new center, and new dimensions. It's strange, and uncomfortable, and I keep hoping that it will still feel beautiful to be a part of the human family... instead of simply horrifying. 

Sometimes I am not sure, and that's probably one of the most honest things I've ever said in my whole life. 

And yet, still somehow, within me, there is this experience of Love. Even when I'm totally worn out, if I take a minute to land in my own heart space, I find it. Endlessly pulsing, seemingly tireless. Somehow, this remains. Over and over. Indestructible. Unbroken, seamless, cohesive. Unconvinced by my defensive numbing out strategies. Beyond my personal limitations, this is the force that remains. As if it's beyond, or outside of wounding altogether.

A miracle.

Consequently, my daily practice, if I am tender enough with myself to remember it, has become this: recognizing how any encounter with Love is a gift beyond all suffering. Or maybe a gift that can hold all suffering. Never erasing it, of course, but strong enough to be with it. 

For this, I am humbled, and I am thankful. 

Namaste,

Whitney