“With Astonishing Tenderness”*
Hello.
So much has been happening in my life.
Wait—that’s not quite accurate.
Actually not a lot has been happening in my life.
Wait—no, that’s not true, either.
They are both true!
So much is happening.
And
Nothing is happening.
All at the same time.
For the first time in my 76 years
On this planet,
I have been given a Medical Thing.
I’ve always joked about
Being made of
Sturdy
Russian
Peasant
Stock.
That still
Is true.
And
Now
I’m a Sturdy Russian
Peasant Stock Girl
With
A Medical Thing.
Still far from diagnosed
(Although we know what it is),
I’m in The Hallway.
You know The Hallway?
The Hallway of Waiting.
I do have two specialist appointments
Scheduled for the next few months.
I am practicing.
OH!
So!
Imperfectly!
What am I practicing
In this Hallway?
I am practicing
Waiting.
Waiting
With
And
Without
Projection.
Trust me,
They both
Come and go.
I am practicing
Waiting,
Perhaps even
Waiting
With
A
Smidgen
Of faith.
(Smidgen!
What a great word.)
Practicing.
~~~
It’s a thing, this Medical Thing,
Both a big and little thing.
It’s kind of common.
It won’t take my life.
Yet
It needs my response.
Hard to explain.
Both to you.
And
To
Me.
SOOOOO
All of this takes me yet again,
BACK
TO
KINDNESS.
Kindness and tolerance
For my own process.
Kindness and tolerance
For my own process of…..
Waking at 2:15 a.m.
With a wild mind.
Kindness and tolerance
For my own process
For not wanting
To
Ever
Leave
The
House.
(Sounds like a good idea,
Don’t you think?)
Kindness and tolerance
For my own process
Of thinking the very worst.
Kindness and tolerance
For my own process
Of creating detailed responses
To each potential treatment—
While not actually
Being
Diagnosed.
Suffice to say—
Can I bear,
Can I abide
My
Human
Responses?
They fluctuate
On the winds.
They vary
Nanosecond.
By
Nanosecond.
They are exhausting.
I am
Exhausting
Myself.
But
These reactions?
They are all
Parts of me.
And what do we know about parts?
NO BAD PARTS!
~~~
This lovely poem.
Thank you, Nancy,
For sending.
It has offered me
Such solace.
It’s called:
~~~
With Astonishing Tenderness
by Rosemerry Trommer
When, in the middle of the night,
you wake with the certainty you’ve
done it all wrong, when you wake
and see clearly all the places you’ve failed,
in that moment, when dreams will not return,
this is the chance for your softest voice—
the one you reserve for those you love most—
to say to you quietly, oh sweetheart,
this is not yet the end of the story.
Sleep will not come, but somehow,
in that wide awake moment there is peace—
the kind of peace that does not need
everything to be right before it arrives.
The peace that comes from not fighting
what is real. The peace that rises
in the dark on its sure dark wings
to meet you exactly as you are.
~~~
The peace that arises
When we meet ourselves exactly where we are.
What a profound reminder.
Friends,
What about you?
How do you offer yourself kindness?
How do you strengthen
Your muscle of self-tolerance?
What works for you?
What challenges you?
~~~
My weekly intention is to offer you that which touches and inspires me during the week. In other words, you inspire me to keep opening my heart, to be inspired! Thank you, truly.
I might have sent this Playing for Change classic before. If so, please enjoy it again. I loved watching it this week.
Higher Ground
Thanks, Stevie Wonder
~~~
Dear Friends,
May you be healthy.
May you be present.
May you ride
The waves
Of your life.
May you practice
Basking in your own kindness,
Wrapping yourself up
In your own tolerance.
May you live
In peace
No matter what
You
Are
Given.
Stay blessed,
Aruni
~~~
FUN INNER QUEST INTENSIVE FACTOIDS
The Inner Quest is celebrating its 55th birthday this year.
There are quite a lot of people, of meditation, of laughter, of connection in those years.
I am having my 35th Inner Quest birthday this year.
I have had the privilege and the blessing to direct this program for almost 35 years.
There are quite a lot of people, of miraculous groups of people coming together in those years.
I am blessed.
June 26-29
* With Astonishing Tenderness, by Rosemerry Trommer