I am profoundly alone. Four words that go deep. Each one ringing a bell of recognition. This is the Way. Each one of us must walk the road of Calvary alone, must be born alone and die alone. This is not being dramatic; it is the simplest truth. Each birth and death is an initiation into Now. Who can say they were there when the rite happened? The Mystery decrees otherwise. Our inner lives are shrouded in mystery and secrecy. Evil and good both live in each human being. Who wakes and who sleeps?
I have to go grocery shopping. There I will smile, be affable and veil the pain. For that is how society rolls. False coin is exchanged; it seems the kindest thing to do. But “the law of otherwise” prevails. That man has had his heart broken by his children. That woman is a closet drinker. That child is abused. Yes, the one carrying the balloon. She is already learning to behave in public.
If you saw me writing this, you would see a woman in a pair of brown slacks and an ice blue fleece jacket. Hair flat from the cold and the electricity in the air. Skin pale from sorrow. And I will sally forth and bring the groceries home. Once home I will overeat and search the channels for something decent to watch on TV.
Off and on during the day I will sit at the still point and do energy healing for different people, most of all for myself. I will write and surf the net, letting myself be bored, amused, moved, etc. by the stuff thrown against the screen of my iMac. Media, thou art Lord.
If you have read this and are thinking that you are the lucky one compared to me, you are most welcome to feel that way. Out of my profound aloneness has come the urge to write the truth. Truth that is not palatable to most people I know. Many have sorrow-intolerant stomachs. For them, I offer up a generic Merry Christmas. Fa la la la la la la la la.