Letting Go

My Bishop was speaking with the youth, not so long ago, and he responded to a question with an answer that was probably meant for me regarding a situation I'm currently in. It was that we need to identify our fear as something that is not from God. If we have fear and anxiety we should pray to have that feeling replaced with hope and faith. I am praying for this. It has not been a quick fix to the problem, in fact, my self doubt whispers that I'm somehow praying wrong, or I'm unworthy to receive this great blessing, but then I tell myself that this is the same source of negative thinking that I'm trying to overcome. So you see that this is going to be a journey for me, because things need to heal along the way.

I often say about my husband and kid, that their not happy unless they have something to worry about. I say it teasingly but in a very real sense I recognize it, because I too have this trait. For twenty some years I've chosen to embrace suffering. I learned this at the bedside of my Mother who was battling M.S. and somehow set it up in my brain that I owned a piece of her pain. I have held on so tightly to that belief that, even now at the age of 35 I'm silently carrying this pain in myself in effigy of her experience. And it doesn't stop there; pain throughout the years has been added upon, heaped into this void.

In the book, Secret Garden, Mary has this conversation with Colin where she shares this story told to her by her Ayah in India. It is about an Indian God who had to hide who he was, because his Uncle wanted to be king and would kill him should he know of his existence. So he lived in a field with some cows and was quite ordinary. He seemed like everyone else on the outside, but if you were to look down his throat, you would see the entire universe. Of course, Colin and Mary have a huge fight about the possibility of this happening, but this is a very memorable part of the book for me because I think we're all like that Indian God. We all have this great expanse of mystery and depth within us, so much so that we cannot even fathom it. It's our own universe, where we reign supreme and where experience bloom or, perhaps rots, or maybe even float away forgotten and unnoticed.

I know I'm tired of holding onto suffering. I'm tired of constantly creating this misery in my little universe. I think I've learned all I can from it, and I don't want it to be my teacher anymore. I've had enough of it and I'm letting it go.

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