At times a visitor of melancholy will appear, arriving from the night world, from the moon, not to harm, but to reveal.
A tenderness, a disappointment, a shakiness, a quivering. The guide has arrived but wasn’t quite what we thought. Such is the way of the heart. As we are made into dust, the fire is tended.
At times we will be asked to be midwife as an old dream dies: a person we thought would always be by our side, the way we thought it would all turn out, the way we offered our art to the world, what would bring us purpose and meaning. These ones are no longer able to continue the journey with us and open a portal into a golden, purifying grief.
While it may be tempting to replace the burning with bliss, the sadhana of disappointment demands that we listen, to the stories and feelings and whispers and longings, and place the shattered pieces on the altar in front of us. To receive light as we turn... and turn and turn toward a sacred reassembling.
Even if we cannot love, accept, or receive what has come, we can always bow. But what this bowing looks like will never conform to others' paths, dreams, and ways and must be discovered within. For the map of that territory is unprecedented, crafted of unique fragrances and weaved into us alone by the great weaver of Soul.
My next book, A Healing Space: Befriending Yourself in Difficult Times, will be published by Sounds True in 2020.