Death arrives, forcing me to blaze new trails in unfamiliar terrain with limited resources.
Shelter …
Space in which to retreat when despair and exhaustion prevent me from once again putting one foot in front of the other. Space in which to try over and over to comprehend the incomprehensible. Space in which to temporarily cling to the shoreline when rivers of raw emotion threaten to drag me under.
Death shape shifts around me: worldwide illness, isolation, job loss, increased work demands, more illness, a loaded gun, exponential work demands, more isolation, more illness, unfounded accusations, ineffective leadership, more work demands, a fractured hip, a broken healthcare system, a shit-storm, family dissent, unbearable weight, a darkened heart.
Community …
Space in which to express how very terrified I am in this raging wilderness. Space in which to remember my strength whenever I feel so very ill-equipped to grapple with the tangled underbrush. Space in which to find companionship whenever I feel so very lost and alone.
Still Death hounds me, driving me further into wilderness as Time marches relentlessly on.
How much time? Days? Minutes? Years?
I lose track.
I lose Me.
Nourishment …
Biz, take time in which to turn off the outside world in order to hear yourself think.
But Biz is in shock. Unwilling? … Unable? … Too frightened? … to actively engage with her inner world. Biz remains numb, a dead woman walking.
Liz, take time in which to engage in frenetic activity in order to turn off your mind.
And Liz runs. Three miles away, through the woods. Finds momentary escape, relief. Pauses at the Lake, sobbing. Ancient pathways call forth primal fears. Liz knows Survival – she will do anything for a felt sense of acceptance, significance, safety, love.
Beth, call forth your emerging awareness of Survival’s paradox – running from Death is running from Life. Life and Death are raw, unpredictable, messy. Birthing them requires blood, sweat, tears. Welcome Life and Death as co-creators of your wilderness, knowing that sometimes they will be too much for you. You will sometimes need the comfort of inner numbness, you will sometimes need the comfort of escape from your outer world, because Survival will harass you at every turn, belligerently insisting you believe its lie – disappointing others ends only in catastrophic annihilation wearing the masks of disapproval, abandonment, lost relationship.
Beth falls – exhausted, battered, bruised. Empty.
With gentle wisdom and compassion, the Story Teller and Meaning Giver lays down, envelops her, gently strokes her hair, and whispers, “Elizabeth, have you forgotten that Hope dwells in both Life and Death?”
Elizabeth pauses, considers this question. Remembers Infinite Hope borne out in life’s Infinite Cycles. Prioritizes her own rest, rejuvenation, respite. Breathes again. Finds herself. Remembers once more to heed time-tested trail advice: Stay Alert.
Biz Has a Blog! 