The days preceding a new year incline me toward reflection. I read over the past year as depicted in my Zequenz journal, ruminate on a word for the year (which will show up daily in my morning prayers), and consider some intentions for the season ahead. I anticipate this reflective week each year with good expectancy.
While reading my journal I came across an unusual entry, inspired by a session with a directee. Most of my entries muse over my ordinary life, marking moments and thoughts I want to remember knowing I will encounter them at a future point. This entry is not that. Since I journal long hand (sans editing), in re-posting I resisted the urge to edit, but admittedly changed a couple words, mostly for clarity.
Warning: this will be odd for some (most?) readers, so I debated posting it. (Although that has seldom stopped me before...). Being that this entry stuck with me after revisiting it, I read it to my spiritual director and her affirmation of it nudged me forward. Many of you already know I experience God in mystical, unusual sorts of ways. I intend this as an invitation to ponder your own experience of the Mystery journeying your life with you.
Stop reading, of course, if the oddness quotient becomes too much.
April 18, 2023
I do not belong to you. I am older and bigger than you can imagine, yet hold you together in every possible way.
Let me be free to be me in you.
You would become wild and gentle--like soaring albatross and grounded cedar. Like the wild gentleness of Clara's daughters who jump from stump to stump--racing--and who nestle and settle in our arms.
I have wisdom but am not productive.
I am clean but not neat.
You use words to speak of me, but I'm not in the words.
Trust that you belong to me and together we make love tangible.
You may want to reduce this conversation, or tame it, or tidy it up by saying I am God, but that's not quite it. Don't let this be nailed down. Let it be.
Become who you could become, easier if you stop fretting about who and how others think you should be.
Sink beneath words, structures, rules (all that must be constructed for life out there--for ordinary life--to unfold) and hang out with the me that is you under/over/beside all that.
You know what I'm saying. You know where that place is. You can touch it whenever you want.
Trust the me in you.
Let's go adventuring and see what happens.
After reading this three times, resting with it, something rattling loose inside calmed and found a place to settle. Thank you
Deep calls to deep through these words. They may pluck different chords in me than in you but I am resonating nevertheless. Thank you for gathering the courage to share.