it's the last day of september. it's raining quietly, the sun is just now somewhere rising behind the clouds. it's early. and i'm waiting. i'm not sure what i'm waiting for.
yesterday i watched a video clip of someone talking about the problem of our busy-ness, the constancy of our need to be doing something or checking something or filling ourselves and our time with something. but again, it's avoidance of the silence. of what we find in the silence.
what was so great was that he called us all out. he described that feeling that we all have- that hole- that deep need- that abyss- that like a child rears it's ugly uncomfortable little head when things get quiet and we are all alone. it starts to moan and yell and need something. it starts to creep over us- that feeling that maybe we are ultimately alone in this bad messy world, that things are as bad as we fear, of might be, or might never be better than now, and so we hightail it away from there. we run fast. we grab. we google. we message and text and get on facebook. we do ANYTHING to keep from that sore spot. he spoke about getting that sinking feeling one day when he was driving. so he quickly grabbed for his phone. but when he realized he was doing it, avoiding, shunning, numbing, covering it- he made the brave choice to sit with it. he pulled over on the side of the road. he felt it. it hurt. it was uncomfortable. and he cried and cried in the sadness of it. but.
but then he felt peace. then he felt joy. and hope. and he was renewed. refreshed. given life again. but if he hadn't allowed himself to feel that sore spot, if he'd covered it up with his phone, or the internet, if he'd run away, he may have avoided that moment of sorrow- but with it, the peace.
our feelings are beautiful. the fact that we can feel all these things - is beautiful. that we can experience that range of emotion and still breathe is beautiful. that we can come back from sadness and have deep joy. that we can cry and then laugh. and that we can share this- this knowledge of the passion in our humanity with each other. that is beautiful. that is what helps the abyss. that and God. knowing that we are not alone, or abandoned, but held when we ask, cared for, loved. knowing that underneath are the Everlasting Arms.
yesterday i watched a video clip of someone talking about the problem of our busy-ness, the constancy of our need to be doing something or checking something or filling ourselves and our time with something. but again, it's avoidance of the silence. of what we find in the silence.
what was so great was that he called us all out. he described that feeling that we all have- that hole- that deep need- that abyss- that like a child rears it's ugly uncomfortable little head when things get quiet and we are all alone. it starts to moan and yell and need something. it starts to creep over us- that feeling that maybe we are ultimately alone in this bad messy world, that things are as bad as we fear, of might be, or might never be better than now, and so we hightail it away from there. we run fast. we grab. we google. we message and text and get on facebook. we do ANYTHING to keep from that sore spot. he spoke about getting that sinking feeling one day when he was driving. so he quickly grabbed for his phone. but when he realized he was doing it, avoiding, shunning, numbing, covering it- he made the brave choice to sit with it. he pulled over on the side of the road. he felt it. it hurt. it was uncomfortable. and he cried and cried in the sadness of it. but.
but then he felt peace. then he felt joy. and hope. and he was renewed. refreshed. given life again. but if he hadn't allowed himself to feel that sore spot, if he'd covered it up with his phone, or the internet, if he'd run away, he may have avoided that moment of sorrow- but with it, the peace.
our feelings are beautiful. the fact that we can feel all these things - is beautiful. that we can experience that range of emotion and still breathe is beautiful. that we can come back from sadness and have deep joy. that we can cry and then laugh. and that we can share this- this knowledge of the passion in our humanity with each other. that is beautiful. that is what helps the abyss. that and God. knowing that we are not alone, or abandoned, but held when we ask, cared for, loved. knowing that underneath are the Everlasting Arms.
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