Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

How we end.

September 13, 2019

 

Ever see someone try to leave the dock, only to realize they're still tethered to it? There's always a moment of confusion, of gunning the engine because *surely* more force is the answer.

More force is very rarely ever the answer.

We can't force ourselves to be kind, to be brave, to be content, to be satisfied. I mean, we can, but it's short-lived and not very pleasant or honest. But what we can do is allow it. In other words, stop fighting the tide, the cycle that *wants* to carry us away from the shore if only we'd stop struggling for a second and look around for what's holding us back.

 

Now. I say this while living with something that, at the moment I cannot change and that, in the immediate, impacts my sleep and my quality of life. But what can I do? Painful as it is even to write this--I just have to surrender. I have to surrender to time and hope and faith and the belief that we can be healed and that we can heal all aspects of our lives--physical, emotional, external, internal. I have to believe that because to believe otherwise is tantamount to giving in and one step away from losing all wonder.

If only we could find the grace to sit here, to sit with all of it--salt-stains, bone-deep damp and all, and wait. And if we could just listen for the lapping of the tide then maybe, if we can be still, that faith will carry us away.  

 

 

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This Quiet Earth