{"id":947,"date":"2015-02-07T10:02:58","date_gmt":"2015-02-07T14:02:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.gloriacrist.com\/blog\/?p=947"},"modified":"2015-02-07T10:52:14","modified_gmt":"2015-02-07T14:52:14","slug":"1000-veils-and-whispers","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.gloriacrist.com\/blog\/2015\/02\/1000-veils-and-whispers\/","title":{"rendered":"1000 Veils and Whispers"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 “In the language of the alchemists, matter suffers until the nigredo<\/em> disappears, when the ‘dawn’ (aurora)
\nwill be announced… and a new day will break.” \u00a0Carl G. Jung<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 This is how my morning starts:\u00a0 I give way to the sleeplessness and open my eyes with a whisper to the world.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I am here.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Then I go through the rituals of the morning with pets and an almost 13 year old<\/em> who begs for 5 more minutes every single morning<\/em>.\u00a0 I greet the dog and whisper a prayer for a few moments of silence while the coffee brews.\u00a0 I whisper another prayer that one more veil of grief will be lifted so I am able to move further into my own personal massa confusa.\u00a0 It’s\u00a0 all alchemy.\u00a0 I am deep in the nigredo of life.\u00a0 I am in the part of life where all elements have come together in a giant vat of melting, hot, fucked up goo.\u00a0 What transforms from the goo is yet to be discovered. This is my albedo.<\/p>\n

It has been 6\u00a0 months. I still cry every day. The reasons are varied-not so focused on one thing, however, the tears still fall.\u00a0 I stopped counting days and now I\u00a0 whisper a curse when the second of every month rolls around lifting another veil on the passing of time. This is not what I expected-ever- in my life. More so, never what I wanted for my daughter.\u00a0 This particular veil of anger has yet to lift.\u00a0 My heart aches for her. My heart breaks for her.\u00a0 I can not fix this and I can not rewrite part of her life story.Every night I whisper a prayer for peace and healing in her ear while she is sleeping.\u00a0 Please let her find comfort in the good memories. Please let her find inner strength and joy. Please do not let this close her heart<\/em>.\u00a0 I whisper a curse every day to my husband for leaving her to figure this out during adolescence, as she grows older, and goes through more milestones without him.\u00a0 I whisper with wonder how my so beloved husband-who knew the complete joy of being the first to hold her, to cut the cord and welcome her into this world, who radiated in the light of her love for him-how he could leave in such a sudden, tragic way. I whisper for the power of renunciation-to bathe us both in the willingness to see things as they are-not as I want them to be. I whisper every minute of every day:<\/p>\n

Don’t give up. Don’t give in.<\/p>\n

In the dead of this ongoing winter I am burning the last of the cherry wood my husband chopped a year ago.\u00a0 The same wood I stacked this past October whispering regret and spewing curse words out loud.\u00a0 I have come to the conclusion stacking wood is good for anger and regret. Real good.\u00a0 Throw wood,stack wood, scream, curse and make neat piles of sweet smelling wood. I have come to identify with the sweet smelling layered wood, splintered and aged with its own protective layer of bark.\u00a0 It burns slow and hot.<\/p>\n

Yes please.<\/p>\n

I have come to terms with forgiveness and here it is:\u00a0 I do not have to forgive.\u00a0 In these days and months-sometimes hour to hour, I have knocked on the door of forgiveness-for my husband, for those who were less than kind, who said and did things that added another layer of hurt in the middle of the worst hurt I have ever known.\u00a0 Alcohol on so many open wounds. I took on the extra burden, in my way of loving kindness and in my practice to see the world with compassion. I understand we are all broken and mending on some level. Forgiving is exhausting work. As I sat with a very wise and mystical mentor going over my list of forgiveness ( yes, I had a list) she looked at me and said,<\/p>\n

” Fuck that! You are not Th\u00edch Nh\u1ea5t H\u1ea1nh<\/strong>.”<\/p>\n

She was right.\u00a0 So as I lift the veils of forgiveness-I toss them away with reconciliation-but not forgiveness.\u00a0 I can live with that. I can be spiritual, loving and kind and I can also choose not to forgive. I can also eat m&m’s on the way to yoga.\u00a0 I can chase the mailman up the street when he refuses to deliver my mail because my shoveling was not good enough<\/em>.\u00a0 I can eat soup for days and microwave lasagna for my daughter.I can lift the veil of not knowing what the hell is next in our lives.\u00a0 I can lift the veil of wondering where we go from here. I have lifted the veils of perfection in this imperfect time.\u00a0 I know where we are for now and I am okay with it.<\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

“<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>