The Saga of lost hope
I walked away from some people I love very dearly... just last night.
and my soul cries while I wrtie this.
I feel like a complete idiot... And a hopeless unhealable shambles...
but grateful that I am strong enough to admit what I feel right this moment.. and even stronger to understand that perception is not always truth...
Hope is not forever.
Hope is never forever.
Hope doesn't create safety or give inspiration.
sometimes, shared hope sustains the journey.
and I suppose this is where the soul tears cry like torrential rain this very moment.
noticing that I left some who shred such shared hope.
Probably more than I ever loved a group of people, in recent history, I love these folks...
Trying to break down the barriers too soon was the reason I left them standing there..
I recognised the pace was too swift.
we were not quite in sync.
a shift of time, place, moments...
I "hope" will bring the syncronicity back again.
But it's what we deserve already.
and it will either return, or not... as it is meant to be.
My wound took me down, took us down, took this down... or such is my perception.
God/Goddess, I get so glad I didn't blame anyone, but blamed
"my own wound".
I feel like I am dying, right now... a part of my needs to be hled and just told to keep silent.
I felt almost this same depth of seep loss once recently, (a couple of years ago), slept on it, then woke up the next day and read about a Czech immigrant who was found dead in his hotel room. ..They found an airport baggage claim ticket in his pocket, he was dressed like a bride's groom. He had been in this country only a few days.
They went to the airport and found the bag revolving for 3 days with no one claiming it... it smelled really bad... Really bad...
Inside the bag, they found his wife... in her bridal gown, She had ridden in the freezing baggage compartment of the airplane.. The only way that she could get to America with her husband... They didn't realize it would be freezing cold.
He had committed suicide... Because he had seen that she was dead in the suitcase...
And he couldn't bear the responsibility , as he said in the note... for having helped kill their dream... their new life.
she had frozen to death.
a photo of them was found among the clothes and other belongings...
they looked like angels in love...
they were.
Angels in Love.
.........
When we share hope wiht someone, we get to be angels in love.
If we get teh chance to build such hopes into tangible shared dreams come true, then we participate in miracle.
there is no other reality to what we share.
it even includes a simple process of buying a cup of coffee... if you are 100% awake inthe process, it's a dream come true... in itself.
...........
the day after I feel a wound like this...
I want to rush forward and sweep the dbris from between all those I trusted with our shared hope.
Practical matters interfere.
Like stopping a lesson that needs to be learned, inside time and space.
And of course, we are all pieces of God/Goddess/creator,
But we need the time and space to separate us , so we can find our way back.
or we would have no where to go.
What lost gets found gets lost gets found.
Then you find yourself walking some lonely beach, again noticing the beauty of the waves and the roar of the ocean, and find youorself seeking the familiar... a new stone, yet a one that matches what I was known or lost...
.........
I have to live without...Now.
Again... and greet time and space... and within it find a need for a prize to yearn for, to hope for...
and eventually another dance with others, in shared hope walking hand in hand in the journey towards more dreams come true.
or so it seems.
until it walks up to me reflected back in so many beautiful happy faces.
I suggest I do not deserve to see it... or know it is real... or may never actually be able to trust it existed up 'til now, ever...
anybody who knows about true survival , understands this...
the ebbs and flows of time and space... of loss and gain.
you may have survived, but depending what you lost... You might , rather hold a secret knowledge that a part of you had died.
until you can believe it is worht sharing again.
sits on a carousel somewhere at some surreal amusement park... At an airport with folks just walking past it.
While it st6inks, and draws attention.
and deep inside it all... a quest for beauty and shared hope.
......................
I wish I were whole... But I am not even half.
Maybe will never be whole...always in process
such was good enough yesterday, when hope was shared and a goal was seen in front of all this beaty along the way.
the holes in my heart are real.
more real now, than such hope.
but it's only time... it's only space.
it's Swiss cheese, folks...
but it's only time... it's only space.
and it's been so long since it was anything but that...
I finally admit it.
I finally admit it.
but it's only time.... it's only space.
an it's only perception.
...........
a shared view of the beauty that is growing solved it all.
and the quest for hope to walk towards, through the darkness, and a boost of courage with the armour of love.
that was yesterday.
and maybe more deep tomorrow than it ever could have been,
becasue of the embracement of the time... and the space...
and noticing that my own feet still have steps to walk.
the whole is more than the sum of the parts.
this is true.
but each part has to bring the hole in it's heart.
overlapped, the hearts see more beauty than holes.
and more hope and love than fear.
but it's a choice of reflected perception,
on the parts that have yearned to grow.
replacing the holes with whole.
and more to share results beyond perception, or even hope.
Since, as theBuddha has said,
Hope is an empty emotion.
but I would also like the world to know that shared hope isn't hope at all.
it is a decision to LOVE.
www.ARTintoLIFE.com
http://www.zazzle.com/toekneestanger*
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home