Sukhmani

March, reflections. Reminders.
Some of you might already know, I’ve recently spent some time moving through a kind of pain I’ve never quite known before. A pain I’d previously brushed against, tasted without quite having the tongue for it. This time it was not as peripheral. I am well and truly rearranged.

Toward the mouth of the lion I was thrust, and into it I walked.

At its heaviest, being awake was unbearable. But in the breaking, a strange clarity begins to arise.

I am not afraid of pain.

This pain is not my enemy. It is not something to be rushed toward or away from. It strips away illusions, exposes the bones of old or false truths, and demands that we sit still long enough to actually notice.

Sure, it is proof of injury, but also, of connection. And, as ever, to feel deeply, even when it scalds, is evidence that we are, in fact, Alive. Here.

I wish I had something profound to offer anyone reading this, but I don’t. I only have small reflections that, however cliché may sound, are real to me.

Though the feelings might be real, the conclusions aren’t always. Stay with it. Accept it. Be patient. And know when to move. For when everything seems to be coming apart, something else, something precious, is taking shape in the ruins.