Strong

I sat down to write yesterday. I had been writing more in my journal in the last couple weeks, and reading more too. Steadily stacking gratitude day by day had me feeling less worried and more hopeful. Changing the lens made the picture seem brighter. I wanted to share what had me feeling better. I’d planned on describing some of the moments of synchronicity popping up everywhere in my life over the last month. Signs from the universe. Proof of God’s hand in my life, ushering me along, pointing the way. Examples of unrelated moments that felt deeply related. Like one of those pointillism pictures made up of tiny dots that together form a complete image, only it wasn’t a picture I was seeing as I connected the dots, it was a message. The same message said in different ways, “Make yourself strong”. Don’t focus on the problem. Focus on the solution. This lesson a familiar one. Often signs and messages we pick up feel that way- like a reminder of something we already know.  One such moment came as I watched an episode of Super Soul Sunday with Michael Bernard Beckwith, he talked about the questions we ask ourselves and the energy our questions carry.  He explained that low vibration questions lead to low vibration results. Examples include:  Why me? How did this happen? Will I ever stop struggling?  He suggested that instead we ask higher vibration questions like, “If this situation were to last forever, what quality must I cultivate that would give me peace of mind?” When I heard him say this time stood still. For a fraction of a second all of the unrelated but related moments made sense. Together they were telling me that I would need strength. I would need to make myself strong for everything to be ok. No matter what.  

Yesterday as I sat down to write this piece; an article on synchronicity, and the magic moments that exist, reminding us what we might already know but have forgotten, something else poured out of me…. Thick, dense, white-hot fear. A whole bucket load of it. I sat and wept and wrote. My typing so fast and so feverish, my breath matching its beat. When it was done I took one long deep breath, as though a weight had been lifted off my chest, “what the fuck just happened”, I said out loud. I’d been feeling better. I was less afraid. I was inspired to share my new insights. I heard the universe’s message. What was this sludge that I’d just vomited all over the page?  I can’t share this. Not now. This was not what I wanted to write about. “Oh yes but it was”, a voice in my head answered back so quickly that it shuts me up. This was not the voice that had been carrying on in my head. “What if…” I hover over the keys now as I contemplate finishing the sentence. I can’t…  I have to…  “What if she dies?”. I choke on the sob that escapes me. No, the voice I heard was not the voice of fear. This was love. All love. And she wasn’t done with me. Sometimes love is soft and sweet, but sometimes she is insistant and steady.  Sometimes she shuts you up with her truth.  She wanted me to know that I had misunderstood. “You are ALREADY strong.”  Ah…  I possess the quality, I just need to cultivate it. I am not weak. I had the strength within me all along. 

I didn’t write the piece I’d set out to write.  I wrote the piece that needed to be written; the one I needed to read. Tomorrow my mom goes in for surgery to remove two nodules from her lower left lung. Something I have avoided talking about with most people most of the time. Something I told myself I would only really write about once she was cancer-free. She is my everything. And maybe that sounds dramatic, and childish, but it doesn’t make it any less true. All of the love I give away she has poured into me. The fear of what might happen is thick, and dense and white-hot. I’d been sure I’d be burned if I let it escape, and worse yet, that my fear might magnify hers. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want any of it. What I hadn’t understood was that sharing it would lessen its grip over me. Fear only wins when we are alone with it. I am not alone. I am already strong. So is she. Letting all of this poison spill out of me didn’t free it, it freed me. 

Pray with me.  

2 Comments

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2 responses to “Strong

  1. Patricia Weiss

    You sure are strong- everything she is, you are and more my love xo

    Like

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