Wednesday, February 20, 2013
And sometimes that armour/blanket is called "denial"...
Our survival adaptations are so tough, but our wounds are so delicate.
To heal, we have to lift the armour carefully- it saved our lives, after all.
It’s like moving your best friend off to the side of the path.
You don’t trample on her; you don’t hit her with a sledgehammer.
You honour her presence like a warm blanket that has kept you safe and sound during wintry times.
And then, when the moment is right, you get inside and stitch your wounds with the thread of love, slowly and surely, not rushing to completion, nurturing as you weave, tender and true.
The healing process has a heart of its own, moving at its own delicate pace. We are such wondrous weavers...
It is one way of appreciating how even, or perhaps especially, when we are at our weakest we truly are courageous enough, wise enough to create such armour.
Rather than berating ourselves for having created a defence system,
perhaps we can honour the courage of that moment, and
compliment it with another courageous moment of awareness and
gentle release of the armour to the extent we are capable of in this moment.
At the end of the day it boils down to the fact that the only thing you take with you when you die is your human experience, the following came to mind.
Life is the creative expression of the soul