A year ago today everything changed. It was the first day of a new start, in more ways than I realized at the time. After getting my ass kicked on an emotional roller coaster for two years, for a moment or two on January 23, 2018, I had peace of mind. For a moment or two. And then, a phone call late in the evening and the peace of mind vanished in an instant. Just like that, the emotional tidal wave hell ride began all over again. This time, however, was much much worse than anything I had ever experienced.
On the road less traveled of spiritual renewal and religious rethinking, I cannot possibly articulate how I've changed. An ongoing process of revision and deep reflection, I realize all too painfully that a person can rarely choose how a journey or a life ends. Try as we might, we also cannot control how other people act or think, talk or remember. We get to choose how to begin again. That's about it.
"To develop a religion or world view that is realistic--that is, conforms to the reality of the cosmos and our role in it, as best we can know that reality--we must constantly revise and extend our understanding to include new knowledge of the larger world. We must constantly enlarge our frame of reference." M. Scott Peck, pg. 191
This book has been sitting on my shelf for about six months. I picked it up again for my recent silent retreat and had a tough time putting it down. I jumped around more than I usually do, but I wasn't in the mood to be orderly. Some books really require a chronological approach. I survived just fine skipping ahead. It's a book I've heard referenced often, but usually only for its first three words: "Life is difficult." I first knew the pyschiartrist and I were on the same wavelength when he wrote this on page 51 about one's openness to challenge:
"What does a life of total dedication to the truth mean? It means, first of all, a life of continuous and never-ending stringent self-examination."
Just under a year into my new blog and anyone whose been following closely could tell you that's what I'm up to: truth and self-examination. I enjoy when others resonate with my truth and am intrigued when it doesn't, but how things sit at the end of my words isn't up to me. Truth, stringent self-examination and transformative spiritual growth are all my never-ending pursuits. Whether or not people read my words isn't the point. I love seeing the number of page views increase, but if that were my only goal for blogging, the inconsistent activity would have made me quit by now. Instead, Peck names what I've known to be true for all of my writing: it's about wrestling with the meaning of my truth through persistent self-examination. Grieving has thrust me into these pursuits full-tilt, revealing profound wisdom and understanding and still more mystery than I ever imagined possible. There is no bottom to the valley. This isn't about recovering what once was, this is about change and growth, or as Megan Devine puts it ever so wonderfully:
"Recovery in grief is not about moving on. It's not about resilience or a return to normal life. Recovery is about listening to your wounds. Recovery is being honest about the state of your own devastation...knowing that grief and loss will carve their way through you, changing you--making their own kind of beauty in their own ways." It's OK You're Not OK, pg 170.
The path of love is sure, unhurried and filled with mystery. Psalm 119
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