I am always working on my spiritual lessons. Today I am remembering how badly I failed my husband when he was ill and dying. I cannot minimize this; I was really angry and exhausted for years. The grief ran like blood through the streets of my heart. I forged ahead knowing that death would eventually outrun him. Who wouldn’t be angry?

I am now beginning my seventh year of life without him. How have I changed? It is hard for me to see or know. My friend, Tallulah, says that she has watched a great change happen in me. She sees how I have become more than a wife or more than a caregiver. I often feel stuck and powerless. I walk on.

My life is my own now. I run it well. But at night bad dreams still arise. They are usually shame-based. A childhood shame rooted in trying to please my mother, apparently. She is dead; the shame is alive in the unconscious. I circle myself with white light.

My Mac is where I find answers arising. Of course, it serves as a bridge between my heart and mind. My fingers find themselves walking peacefully and quickly over the keys. I want to share with the reader. I want to connect with them softly and in a healing way. To do this I must become vulnerable and open.

It is sad that I feel I must be a good soldier rather than one who gracefully surrenders to what is. I am still mounting a defense against my ultimate surrender. It might involve an even deeper suffering, a cleansing of everything I am clinging to.

I have been given proof that I am not alone. That I can live peacefully and meaningfully. Yet the child within does not quite believe that. She draws back from being seen and heard. She hides behind the veil of the  mind while her heart is standing there in plain sight.