April 19, 2011

Incomplete Meditation

I don't like waiting and loose ends, but I appreciate the outcome of determination balanced with patience. I like singing along. I like warm sunny days followed by cold snuggly nights. I like when brothers appreciate each other, faces contorted into giggly art, bellies jiggling.

For years, my "right now" has been exceedingly beautiful. I am growing accustomed to serene days, lack of drama.

Still, my prayer is forever, "O God, I pray to always remember where I came from." This plea is my guard against ingratitude, hope that I may always understand a fellow traveler hunted by wounds inflicted when they were the innocent budding being, talking life in with few questions, unaware, blinded by inexperience.

I used to wander Chicago's streets, every day a slow walk to nowhere, wondering if ever I would be granted a reprieve, a release from the prison of my failed best intentions to "make it" in the world. With each measured step, I was also breathing in, observing without judgment, the world. I began to understand that the mental instability I believed to be a part of my being, had been given without my permission, not chosen, and therefore I could let go, little by little, day by day, gathering beauty and sense around me as a robe of light.

Many a stranger have I passed on the street, their faces revealing a hunger for sanity, a desire to lighten the load their life has become. If I am alone, clear, open, I am flooded with love, speaking in the quiet of my thoughts, "You are so dear."

I've been thinking about Ann Nichol's post, The First Cut.

Some thoughts have no closure.


Posted by heidi at April 19, 2011 12:12 PM
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