Feeling all kinds of quiet today. It’s been that kind of day. Quiet. Listless. And a bit heavy. I have opened and closed this window three times over the course of the day. Wanting to write, because there is much that can be said, probably needs to find a way out too; but also wanting to listen to the moment, which right now is protesting writing, to remain listless, bored, even.
I want instead to just be. Be quiet. And let this feeling stew.
Leaning on David Whyte for post completion here, because this is how I feel today. I had a long and heavy therapy session today, and ended it with a sense of having arrived, which brings with it a heaviness of relief mixed with thankfulness and sheer collapse.
The Well, David Whyte
Be thankful now for having arrived,
for the sense of
from a well,
for remembering the long drought that preceded your arrival
and the years walking in a desert landscape of surfaces looking for a spring hidden from you for so long that even wanting to find it now had gone from your mind
until you only
remembered the hard pilgrimage that brought you here,
the thirst that caught in your throat; the taste of a world just-missed
and the dry throat that came from a love you remembered but had never fully wanted for yourself, until finally, after years making the long trek to get here it was as if your whole achievement had become nothing but thirst itself.
But the miracle had come simply from allowing yourself to know that you had found it,
that this time
someone walking out into the clear air from far inside you
had decided not to walk past it anymore;
the miracle had come at the roadside in the kneeling to drink
and the prayer you said,
and the tears you shed
and the memory
and the realization
that in this silence
you no longer had to keep your eyes and ears averted from the
could save you,
that you had been given
the strength to let go
of the thirsty dust laden
that brought you here,
walking with her
bent back, her bowed head and her careful explanations.
No, the miracle had already happened
when you stood up,
shook off the dust
and walked along the road from the well,
out of the desert toward the mountain,
as if already home again, as if you
deserved what you loved all along,
as if just remembering the taste of that clear cool spring could lift up your face
and set you free.