17 October 2013
So many things flew through my head today that were meant for this letter. At one point in the afternoon, I mapped it out in my head. But of course I was out of the house, surrounded by other people. And the outline faded. But not the fact that I found something today. Something was discovered. And it was important. And it gave me hope in my life and my purpose.
The realization of your self and your path and your history in the same experience.
In my reflective moment today, a knot was unraveled. I tried the exercise of “The Letter I Wanted From You” and came up with two phrases: I have always loved you. You are half of who I am. But that voice was mine, not yours. And it’s not what I have been waiting to hear you say. It’s what I had held back from saying. And in that realization, the new awareness: My life is made up of complete relationships, where we are not half of each other, but two wholes. Love is not half of who I am. All I am is love, and all I am is whole.
I feel compelled to share a poem with you that captures this experience. But for once, I feel overjoyed to say, the poem has not been written yet. I’ve found my niche, my experience, my emotion that can be shared — for the first time in this way.
Holy shit. How amazing is that to realize?
(Don’t go pulling out the perfect poem now! I’m only joking — in fact, if this all makes you think of a poem, share it with me, so I can deepen and highlight my own experience for a new poem as well. I keep thinking of It is Marvellous… by Elizabeth Bishop, but I already shared that a few days ago. It’s more relevant now than it was then.)
This may all be too obtuse or oblique. But suffice to say: it is the journey of the heart healing itself. It is the experience of the life that can view its own completeness. It is the awareness of the whole self, seeing itself as love. And it is a beautiful evening.
In silence which is active, the Inner Light begins to glow — a tiny spark. For the flame to be kindled and to grow, subtle argument and the clamour of our emotions must be stilled. It is by an attention full of love that we enable the Inner Light to blaze and illuminate our dwelling and to make of our whole being a source from which this Light may shine out.
Words must be purified in a redemptive silence if they are to bear the message of peace. The right to speak is a call to the duty of listening. Speech has no meaning unless there are attentive minds and silent hearts. Silence is the welcoming acceptance of the other. The word born of silence must be conceived in silence.
Pierre Lacout, 1969, Quaker Faith and Practice