I’m so tired of talking-
of trying to control, manipulate, convince, clammer, prove, and get it right.
Not only with the world, but with, The Lord.
I’m tired of trying to grasp the things that are already grasping me; tired of holding on, like my grip is the only thing keeping it together.
I’m ready to let go- to release my death grip on life: the now and my future.
Tired trying to control and constrict; manipulate and maneuver, I want to let it be and let me be, along with it.
I want to be still.
I want to be silent.
And remain there.
I want to behold the touch and stare of my Beloveds, letting silence speak louder than words…. let our souls do the talking, communing deeper than mere words could ever penetrate.
I want to speak only when my speaking adds something beautiful to the silence- to this world or another heart.
I want more of this:
More silence, less talking.
More listening, less convincing.
More stillness, less striving.
More being, less doing.
I am ready and I am willing…
to delve the depths of contemplative prayer- not just in my devotional time, but with my life.
Contemplative Prayer goes deeper.
There are times when we speak, weep, groan and shout. But there are also times, when we simply sit in silence and are held by our Beloved…
He reveals to us what God is like with flesh on.
-Book of Common Prayer : Marks of New Monasticism
I feel content to be; no need to hurry or rush, to plan ahead or prepare- for now or my future.
No desire to set goals, personally or professionally; in my marriage or family. There are no flags waving- red or white– staring me in the face, needing attention.
I have no qualms leaving the space between silent- unmotivated to fill it with my words and thoughts and ideas.
I just want to leave it- to let it unfold with the natural rhythms of life.
Instead, I want to be in it, to experience it and feel it; to savour it, un-muddled by manipulation or expectation.
Recently, we celebrated six years of marriage- and a decade of life together, as a couple. More than any other man or friend, I have given Him my passage of time…..
It’s funny how we can remember the past as if it were yesterday; every detail sharp and etched in stone: the pain, the heartbreak, the baggage we’ve since carried with us. And yet, that moment- that relationship- as compared to the 3650 days I’ve shared with Him, is nothing but a blink: a blip on the map of my pilgrimage journey.
As we sat at the top of a rock cliff, looking out, I realized: I’m ready to leave it all behind. I’m no longer looking back; only forward- with hope, excitement and anticipation.
And in the last year, we’ve walked that out- applied the lessons and convictions, we nurtured in that season. We put our money where our mouth is…
and it’s worked.
No longer in the thick of it, we’ve ascended the mountain, seen the peak and trail blazed our way back down. Now we’re leaving the forest through the trees.
What’s I see now, is a beach: a break, a breather; a moment to bask in the sun of our hard-earned sweat and glory.
Don’t be fooled, it was a fight: the hardest battle we’ve ever fought. But the war is over- at least for now.
Now, it’s time to retreat.- to return home to our people and place and just be, with them. To refill and rejuvenate and rest in the arms of love…. and linger there. To give thanks for all thats been and all we’ve come to be, through it.
It’s no wonder my husband and I long to reinvest: in friendship, in community, in extended time with family.
Where we once pulled back from these (in order to protect and focus our efforts on healing), we now feel the need to retreat from the battle grounds- abandon the places we waged war and found solice in the thick of it: research, reading, healing programs, social media, writing and justice work.
Our hearts longs to be at rest and remain there for a period of time.
As we waded in the water, I felt compelled to jump in- to get wet, clothes and all; no longer care about proper or order or what other people may think. And so I did…
I lay there, fully clothed, fully submerged, allowing the ocean waves to take me away.
I didn’t fight it.
I embraced it:
My fear replaced by trust; my innocence returned.
Then Dave joined me, plastic wine glasses in hand. We found a rock mid- ocean and sat there staring out, half submerged in water.
No need for words, our hearts did the talking.
We cheersed, he kissed me and all was well with my soul.