Easter Weekend
My heart cracked way open this week. I wasn’t even aware it was wrapped, tight. The dying off of old ways and thoughts. Like pouring new wine in my old wine skin. The prospect of leaving behind precious things to me, losing a gift handed to me on a platter, made plain.
Love personified before me. Love offered in a human on a cross, and across my own threshold. Waiting. Patiently. Arms outstretched. Perpetually. All of this miraculous.
He asks me if I am okay. The answer is always yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be okay. I’m always the one who is okay. Only this time, not so very much. The ensuing silence left me bereft. Dazed. Confused. Straight into mourning, yet straight into clarity. To lose love or deny it when it truly is a fit, would be insanity. No, not okay. Not thinking straight. Not thinking. Not feeling. Cut off from reality. This pandemic steeling and stealing my mind, guarding my heart. We’ll persevere, but at the cost of what?
Like an egg, cracked. New life. It’s painful, exceedingly so. My head exploding. My body purging its contents. Throwing off the old, making way for the new. Will it be enough? Can I fill it? Will it be good enough? Will I be good enough?
Breaking the spell, and using a wise conjurer’s spell to make me new. Surrounded by those who love me, and that I have loved and nurtured, it all comes around. Holding out a hand for help, I am greatly humbled, and deeply grateful. I am renewed, brought back to life. Restored to my “senses,” literally. Feeling. Flowing. Rejoicing. Rapt, tight.
It’s Easter, and this my weekend writing spot. And the world looks to be in color again. Guess my wineskins have been getting thankfully prepared. Here is Spring, bursting with potential and possibility - if only I have the open heart, mind and “sense” to see it, feel it, taste it, hear it, and reach out and touch…