Image: Painting of my brother and me playing music when we were kids
Journal Entry, September 15, 2015
Don't we all want to believe that there is meaning and purpose in our life? This desire is often thwarted when we are young and imagine ourselves to be on a great long unending highway of ups and downs, tested on an obstacle course constantly measuring our capacity and worth. That's when the feelings of "not good enough" and "loser" can raise their ugly heads. Is life really only an endurance test? Who sets the standards of success or failure? Is there really anybody else in my life who knows more about my reason to be here than me? There was a time when I thought so. There was a time when I really assumed that my life lacked something that others possessed, an indescribable edge that was beyond my ability. This was reflected in so many messages from an outside world that was all too eager to fashion a custom made, personalized box around me to retreat into and just safely follow life instead of engaging with it. The temptation to rely on the outside world to navigate personal choices gets severely challenged during times of crisis and questioning everything. This agonizing time when everything screeches to a dangerous halt may be the necessary opportunity to revel in silence in order to hear a different kind of music.
Sometimes an entire breakdown creates an opportunity to find authentic strength and vitality. A kind of starting over kicks in when we finally allow ourselves to ask real questions. When the outside world has no more control, a meeting ground is prepared. For many of us this "do or die" intensity unveils another kind of inner reserve that waits unencumbered for us to reclaim a relationship with it.
It was in the 17th year.
Sometimes an entire breakdown creates an opportunity to find authentic strength and vitality. A kind of starting over kicks in when we finally allow ourselves to ask real questions. When the outside world has no more control, a meeting ground is prepared. For many of us this "do or die" intensity unveils another kind of inner reserve that waits unencumbered for us to reclaim a relationship with it.
It was in the 17th year.
Everything blasted apart.
The glue of life dried up
The glue of life dried up
And the broken pieces
Lay caked and choking
For their right to survive.
It was in this time of agony,
It was in this time of agony,
In a constant battle between
Futility and fearing to hope,
That a darkness entered
The scene without drama
Or desire to be celebrated.
This force invaded slowly
This force invaded slowly
With dangerous indifference
Infesting all gloominess
Emptying out any vitality
Until meaning nearly lost its hold:
In the last glimmer of a dying spark.
In that darkest of moments,
In that darkest of moments,
A luminescence suddenly dawned:
A quiet sobering roused the senses,
A generous lightness of being
gleamed through empty hallways,
In and out of doorways of feeling.
Everything crescendo-ed in silence
Everything crescendo-ed in silence
Promising ecstatic splendor yet to awaken,
In the resilient heart of a beloved brother,
In the invincible Teacher guiding from the wings,
In the invincible Teacher guiding from the wings,
In the soulmate who would kindle great love,
In the joy-permeated Goddess she would become.
In the joy-permeated Goddess she would become.
©Ganga Fondan, 2015
