I said: What about my eyes?
God said: Keep them on the road.
I said: What about my passion?
God said: Keep it burning.
I said: What about my heart?
God said: Tell me what you hold inside it?
I said: Pain and sorrow?
He said: Stay with it.
The wound is the place where the Light enters you.
I love my slow and quiet starts to Friday after I have earned my living for the week and my long weekend begins in silence and soulitude soaking in written words.
Last night, I left work wearing tiredness like a heavy cloak draped around my shoulders and with the almost constant sadness tugging at my heart. I am okay with the sadness now. Over the last several months, we have sat and conversed and I have discovered it to be a friend. Its name is longing, calling me deeper into who I really am. Calling me to love this world fiercely. It is the gap, the space between where I am and where I am called to be. And it’s getting smaller if not more urgent.
As part of my Reverb in December last year, I picked focus as my word for 2012. Back then, I thought my focus was to finally answer the question that has eluded me over the last four years since I became aware I no longer wanted a career in financial planning: What am I going to do with my life? But the focus I really needed found its own way to me. Healing. Healing my hidden but deeply wounded heart.
Time heals all wounds. So goes that old adage often quoted as a means of offering comfort to those who grieve and hurt. But does it really? Time puts space between the infliction of the wound and the present moment, softening to a sting but does it heal the wound? In my experience, no, time does not heal all wounds.
My mum died sixteen years ago this year on the 19th December after suffering Facioscapularhumeral Muscular Dystrophy (FSHD) for most of her life. We had an extremely turbulent relationship to the extent that she was emotionally abusive towards me when I was a child. Despite this, I still had to be one of her main caregivers as she was confined to bed, unable to walk without falling. Although I was scared of her a lot of the time, I still loved her. She was my mum. I knew who she really was in her heart but her disease, her suffering and her own unhealed wounds from her childhood complicated everything.
Invisible wounds from childhood. Invisible wounds from loss. Time has not healed these wounds.
It is presence, offering them light, feeling and expressing all those painful festering emotions until they dissipate. This is what heals. It requires strength, courage, patience and as I have found, the support of a beautiful, gifted healer to enable this healing. It is still in progress but I have come a long way.
I understand now why I felt compelled to come back to Melbourne and why I have felt so stuck, confused and unable to figure out the way forward. My heart is opening and as it opens so does the way forward. I have been unraveling into wholeness, finding my way back into my heart, fully, so my heart can guide me for the rest of my life.
|Me soaking up the sunlight by the Yarra River, Melbourne|
|Returning to the work tower after a light-filled lunch break|
|Coloured light, sunset over the Docklands, view from the work tower, Melbourne|