“I am thrown back on my shabby little story.” L. Cohen in an interview
I, too, am thrown back on my shabby little story. We all are. That is part of learning humility, I suppose. Everything I say is a supposition of sorts. How can it be otherwise?
I have known true love and have lost it. In the losses I have made the most progress. In the dark nights of my soul, I have been humbled by a force greater than my story. I ache to regain what I have lost, but life is about letting go.
Paradox steps in at this point to say that nothing can be lost or gained; everything exists in its eternal fullness. And then I find myself weeping for the dearness of my lost loves. I want them back. Want to see the child on the swing again. So I do tai chi and let the child in me wave hands like clouds.
I want to make love to an absent husband. So I make love to God in all His Silence. I weep for every act I made against him, but there is no one there to say “I forgive you.”
I write to strike a chord within you, the reader, for surely you are vibrating to this note of honesty. Do not quote holy books at me; just sigh and nod your head. Give me your hand. I need that. Give me your frailties, not your strengths, for human strengths are false to the core.
Remember that the shabby little story reveals the greatness of the bigger picture, one we are painting day by day.