Thursday, July 10, 2008
Feet
Another article, (this time with new information), on the severed feet that have washed ashore in British Columbia over the last year, and so caught my attention.
Thursday. 9:43 a.m.
9:43 a.m.
I’m sitting at my desk, sipping tea.
Feeling a bit muddled again today.
Discombobulated.
Tired.
I’m making lists.
Things to do during the work day.
Things to do tonight, and on into the weekend.
Planning in my head.
Seeing how my bedroom will look once I’ve assembled my bed
Hung artwork
And finished unpacking.
The skies are grey again.
Cloudy and heavy.
It’s funny how often the skies
Seem to reflect my state of mind.
Passion tea
And chocolate kisses
With almonds inside.
All little ways that I pray.
The unspoken prayers
Of my heart.
A black cross
Four inches high is
Propped on my desk
Reminding me with
Bold white script
That I must
Trust.
Quiet
Tired
Discombobulated
Unspoken prayers
Spoken into the silence
It’s morning
A new day
And I am
Listening and waiting
I’m sitting at my desk, sipping tea.
Feeling a bit muddled again today.
Discombobulated.
Tired.
I’m making lists.
Things to do during the work day.
Things to do tonight, and on into the weekend.
Planning in my head.
Seeing how my bedroom will look once I’ve assembled my bed
Hung artwork
And finished unpacking.
The skies are grey again.
Cloudy and heavy.
It’s funny how often the skies
Seem to reflect my state of mind.
Passion tea
And chocolate kisses
With almonds inside.
All little ways that I pray.
The unspoken prayers
Of my heart.
A black cross
Four inches high is
Propped on my desk
Reminding me with
Bold white script
That I must
Trust.
Quiet
Tired
Discombobulated
Unspoken prayers
Spoken into the silence
It’s morning
A new day
And I am
Listening and waiting
Listening with our Wounds - Henri Nouwen
Listening With Our Wounds
To enter into solidarity with a suffering person does not mean that we have to talk with that person about our own suffering. Speaking about our own pain is seldom helpful for someone who is in pain. A wounded healer is someone who can listen to a person in pain without having to speak about his or her own wounds. When we have lived through a painful depression, we can listen with great attentiveness and love to a depressed friend without mentioning our experience. Mostly it is better not to direct a suffering person's attention to ourselves. We have to trust that our own bandaged wounds will allow us to listen to others with our whole beings. That is healing.
To enter into solidarity with a suffering person does not mean that we have to talk with that person about our own suffering. Speaking about our own pain is seldom helpful for someone who is in pain. A wounded healer is someone who can listen to a person in pain without having to speak about his or her own wounds. When we have lived through a painful depression, we can listen with great attentiveness and love to a depressed friend without mentioning our experience. Mostly it is better not to direct a suffering person's attention to ourselves. We have to trust that our own bandaged wounds will allow us to listen to others with our whole beings. That is healing.
Tending Our Own Wounds First - Henri Nouwen
Tending Our Own Wounds First
Our own experience with loneliness, depression, and fear can become a gift for others, especially when we have received good care. As long as our wounds are open and bleeding, we scare others away. But after someone has carefully tended to our wounds, they no longer frighten us or others.
When we experience the healing presence of another person, we can discover our own gifts of healing. Then our wounds allow us to enter into a deep solidarity with our wounded brothers and sisters.
Our own experience with loneliness, depression, and fear can become a gift for others, especially when we have received good care. As long as our wounds are open and bleeding, we scare others away. But after someone has carefully tended to our wounds, they no longer frighten us or others.
When we experience the healing presence of another person, we can discover our own gifts of healing. Then our wounds allow us to enter into a deep solidarity with our wounded brothers and sisters.
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