The deep and far-reaching impact of our planet’s pandemic drove itself into my mind and emotions these last two weeks—boring holes into old traumatic tissue.
Have you ever experienced a kind of loneliness in which you crave compassion?
I simply wanted to know that another human being, at any point in history, experienced a similar suffering. During this painful process, I sought uplifting, comforting words.
As often happens, Life provided an unexpected gift. A poem by John O’Donohue, 20th century Irish poet, philosopher, priest, and Celtic spiritualist, entered my email box via someone I don’t even know. It read:
This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.
Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.
If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.
These words shook my world with profound relief. They gave me permission to lie low, arrested my heart-scraping self-talk, allowed me to remember who I am, and invited me to accept my own hesitant light. They supported my generosity.
I remembered the feeling of new beginnings, fresh air, hope and promise.
Shortly thereafter, pressures lightened a bit. I found myself able to enjoy cleaning my home, something I’d previously had no motivation to do. I rearranged my office, cleared my desk, and finally put up the acupressure poster that had lain curled up in a corner.
I slowly began to release torturous self-judgments and to re-engage what I believe to be true—that everything is happening just the way it should.
It’s essential to note that tending tasks was now done very, very slowly. I moved in slow motion, breathing deeply as I worked, paying attention to my body, surrendering the need to think, letting the emotions rest.
In essence, I was lying low to the wall and in gentle motion, at the same time.
I’m finding this way of “working” so pleasurable. It is low stress and invites ease. It’s inclusive and accepting. It feels both effortless and fulfilling.
While I, like many who want to serve in these times, may not know what steps to take to be more available and helpful, there is an ever-so-slight fragrance in the air, as if a sweetness is coming soon.
I welcome the changes we’re creating, even now, to unite us in new ways for the good of all. Many kindnesses will rebuild the fabric of our community in bolder colors.
I choose to embrace the new harmonic resonance that’s calling us to be the best we can, to do the best we can, and to love the gift of life, truly.
photo by Pixabay
Comments:
Thanks so much, Kennith! You can also subscribe here for further posts: https://lifeiscoachingyou.com/blog/
this is so cool
You're welcome, Beth. I just love the image of the little peach tree in its own right place because you listened. And the inspiring example of Brother Lawrence you reminded us of. Thank you for trying to find the words—and for sharing examples—of this new acceptance, new pace and realization, as it's coming through you. I appreciate the gift.
Thank you Emma for your generosity in sharing your pandemic experience, what you are learning from it and the uplifting poem by John O'Donohue. I particularly related to your sentence of doing things very, very slowly and surrendering the need to think, letting the emotions rest. When I was contemplating on my own experience of this the word acceptance floated into my mind, acceptance of new thoughts and feelings and the actions that result from this. One tiny example: a friend had given me a small peach tree in a pot and I couldn't find the right place to plant it out in my small garden then it came to me talk to your plants ask the tree where it would like to be. When I did this in a moment I just knew where to plant it, at the back of my little garden next to a water tank, a space I would never have considered. It is just right there. Again when I was contemplating on how to put words to this new way of being I thought of this quote I have on my notice board, I understand it better now and would like to share it with you: "Brother Lawrence found a way to practice the presence of God while washing the pots and pans,doing even the very lowly jobs. The people around him couldn't really understand how he could be so happy while doing the dirty work. It was because he saw God in everything he did" Journey of Soul, Harold Klemp, P.49 Like you I welcome the changes we are all creating to "unite us in new ways for the good of all."
Thank you so much, Emma, for this beautiful reflection and the poem which launched it. It is just what I need to hear, because this is just what I have been feeling, struggling with, and wondering about (doubts about my worth, questions about how to serve, struggles with revisiting the big "WHY?" even as I know the answer, or at least the words of the answer). The wire brush has been at work in heart and mind. I've been using my spiritual tools (those that I have learned through Eckankar), and they have lifted me above the mire enough to breathe and to find a path through the bog, but I have also been wanting to hear from others, and your face came to mind. There you are.
What a difference between knowing the words of an answer and knowing in a fully realized state. They are at least a universe apart in my experience as well. I honor that you're doing wire brush work, as not many do. You're exceptional. And I'm happy to chat anytime. :-) Emma
Interesting synchronicity: my son has been out of work and he and his fiancée still live with me and contribute generously to the rent. They do a lot of work around the house as well as providing companionship and love. I don’t feel any need to rush them away. They have a separate entrance and loving area. Anyway, each day during the pandemic my son tries to think of something to work on at home . There was white paint on the outside of the brick wall in front of the house that’s over time had washed down and was much more noticeable since I took down some huge, overgrown bushes. I asked if he thought he might be washed off. He looked it up on Google, he tried turpentine, he tried soap and water. I was at work doing my home care nursing which still keeps me very busy. My son finally found the key: a wire brush. He scrubbed off the old residue without hurting what was underneath. I think many people are experiencing all kinds of things that are relatively new right now. Some positive, some not. The wire brush could be a wire brush of pain of losing a family member to the virus, or of anguish, working in the healthcare field. So it’s a delicate balance of people spending more time together and loving each other and their pets while others are separated and try not to lose their faith, their open hearts. Lots to contemplate here. Thank you, thank you, Emma, and I look forward to sharing your wonderful vignette!
What a great story and synchronicity, Crystal! It just goes to show that there's a right tool for every job, and while a wire brush may be too harsh for the heart, it's not for a brick wall. And we all know brick walls in our life. :-) Thank you for all the love you continue to give as a caregiver and mom in these times. Your gifts are so needed and so appreciated. Keep the courage, brave heart. You're an inspiration.
What a lovely comment, Jim. I honor your 12 years of consolidation that brought the wisdom you so beautifully express. I would try to build on what you've shared, but it's complete in its sacredness. Thanks so much for posting.
Hi Emma I enjoy your post and your blog. I've shared it with friends and family. When I was lying low to the wall, I contemplated a quote for the many years it was necessary for me to consolidate my understanding of the experience. “ In the value of emptiness must come the movement it permits, but the emptiness must come first.” Shariyat-Ki Sugmad Book 1 What struck me at this time was that I did not know where to give my love. I was receiving love, but I always passed whatever I received on to the people that I loved and anyone else in my world. What I learned from this consolidation was that during these times of emptiness you must learn how to accept love for yourself. I also learned about allowing This Love to move me where it wanted to serve and not where I expected it to go. It took many years (approximately 12) to truly understand that quote. Now when I find myself low to the wall. There is a voice of love that has always been present in my life. When I tune into Its frequency, (I do this by singing HU -A Love song to God) I may be alone but I'm not lonely. Jim :>)
I enjoyed your blog on the need to slow down. It seems that has been a big lesson of mine for a very long time. And just this morning I was reminded of an exercise to help with slowing down. Breath In on 4 counts. Hold your breath for 4 counts. Then let out on four counts. It helps!
That's a great exercise, Gwen. I used to teach my student actors that rotating breath. I agree that it does help. Thanks for sharing!
Emma, this is beautiful! I so appreciate your insights and the poem is just perfect.
Isn't that an amazing poem? Thank you for your comment, Eileen. :-)
Ah, your writing as always, is exquisite 💞
Thanks so much, Melanie. :-)
Thank you Emma! I too have changed my pace and given myself permission to approach all my tasks more thoughtfully, slowly and with ease. I am learning an on going lesson to relax and let life’s blessings flow. 💛
That sounds lovely, Laura. Are there words for how you shift into that pace when you need to? Or the signs that it's time to "relax and let life's blessings flow"?
Emma. Thank you! How lovely and how loving are these insights and benefits initiated by John O’Donohue’s poem shared in “Lie Close To the Wall.” I especially appreciated the note about going slow—enjoying each task. Being the best we can, doing the best we can, loving the gift of life.
Thank you, Maryann! What are your experiences with going slow? I know you have many. What have you learned?