For many years now I have done this:
Sat inside the vastness of myself,
squarely in the middle of my depth
and discovered that something is wrong with me.
I yelled at my husband too much.
I hated parenting.
I needed a way to connect with god, but not through Jesus.
I wanted to find good work.
I was so mad at my co-worker (and my boss).
I could not forgive my mother.
All of these things, and more, crawled into my awareness.
They felt broken.
Painful, some very deeply.
And while I believe that we are all essentially good- when our actions, reactions, and perceptions get in the way of the life we want, we have to look at that. We cannot change others, we can only change ourselves. Some things inside us do need healing.
And so, I rowed my little boat away from my center
(but, also towards it– such is the way of spiritual healing)
and over to whatever was broken.
I knew, from other travels, that if I didn’t go look, the brokenness would haunt me.
It would seek help in other, less obvious but more destructive, ways.
Our soul wants to heal, and it will- whatever way it can.
Like a dock or port in a new land,
I made my way
and set my anchor down.
I looked at what felt wrong.
In what ways was this place broken?
What had happened in each port?
Loss of voice?
Each port had it’s own kind of brokenness.
And also, it’s own medicine.
What I needed to learn in order to heal,
was always there.
First it was self-care.
My own sexism and racism.
Then the grief. Feeling the grief.
Then it was feeling all the emotions.
My desire, how I feared and loved it.
One time I needed to learn meditation (that was what was broken- who knew?).
And then, to trust myself and my intuition.
To love with no object.
To enjoy pleasure.
To accept what is.
To do what Life was asking of me (fuckfuckfuck).
Each new harbor has given me something to see about myself.
Each new harbor had its own tantrum, in all honesty.
Whatever called to be healed was worth exploring, though.
The brokenness we all possess: I have it, too.
This is what makes us equal.
My brokenness has also given me so much compassion for the brokenness of others.
We are in this together, my friends.
For fifteen years, I travelled back and forth.
Between my center, feeling ever more healed and confident, and then…
back to the broken places again.
It was a dance I learned very, very well.
So well, in fact, that ‘Fix the Broken’ is now my go-to way of behaving when I want to move ahead in my life.
Until about six weeks ago.
Somewhere around my 40th birthday, I started to feel differently.
It wasn’t that I was tired of hearing the broken places and going to fix them (because, I have been through that a mazillion times, I know what ‘being so damn tired of fixing’ sounds like).
This was different.
It was an statement from a deeper place.
Calm, cool, and collected.
And it said: you’re okay now.
You have done enough healing.
You really, really have.
It was a surprising thing to hear, within myself.
There was no more clanging of bells and crashing of broken plates – that’s how the broken calls to me.
The statement felt really true.
And really good.
I am healed enough now.
Yes, there are things I need to work on still (my black-and-white thinking, still with the racism and sexism and New Englandism, and parenting will always be there). But I know how to deal with brokenness now. It is a tool I can use whenever I need it.
Right now I don’t need it so much.
It finally feels as though I have rowed myself back into my center.
My boat is full of wisdom and tools.
And now I want to build up.
Yes, I want to stand on all that I am now.
Based on all my brokenness,
And all my goodness,
All my suffering and wisdom.
I want to build up.
I am ready to learn this now.