The Wound and the Journey

Abstract artwork featuring the orange sacral chakra symbol near the bottom, fading upward into golden yellow and a hint of green, symbolizing the journey from emotional wounding toward the first steps of healing.
Part Two enters the realm of the wound and the journey — from the depths of emotion toward the first glimmers of healing.

Part two of three …

It happened in a meditation circle. After our quiet practice, we would share about our spiritual lives and any struggles we were having. When it came to my turn, I burst into tears. Through my sobs, I confessed my horrible secret: I believed I was the one person in all the universe that God didn’t love.

Some in the group smiled awkwardly. One man scoffed. A dear friend tried to comfort me, but her words didn’t land. I felt shame flood my body and wanted to run.

But I didn’t run. I let myself cry, whine, and wrestle with what I had said. Weeks later, the shame began to lift, and I gathered the courage to face the group again. I still didn’t have all the answers, but I was determined to explore the wound until I understood it.

Every step is a prayer, every step is a meditation, every step will bring you to the here and the now. ~Thich Nhat Hanh

That exploration took me back to childhood and to my great-grandmother Gladys. She told me to listen to my heart and showed me a God of love and compassion. She taught me that God’s light was always within me.

We’d sit under her grape arbor eating peanut butter sandwiches dusted with sugar, sipping carrot juice. She would point to the flowers in her yard — roses, daffodils, lilacs — and tell me they were all gifts from God. “Whenever you feel sad or lost,” she said, “find a flower. Even a dandelion will remind you of the beauty all around you.”

Her love ignited a yearning in me, a hunger for the God she spoke of. After she died, I promised to keep searching.

One night, after an intense meditation, I dreamed I was sitting under a great oak. A radiant being wrapped her gossamer wings around me and pulled me close. She called me “mystic warrior” and told me Gladys was one of my angels. “You are never alone,” she said. “Divine Love is real. It can be ignored, but it cannot be denied.”

When I woke, my pillow was damp with tears of joy.

Piece by piece, the God I was taught fell away. In Her place came something vast, beautiful, and free — a Presence that dances on the edge of mystery, inviting me into Her arms.

And then, even Her was not enough… and the horizon widened again.

Part two of a three part series. Part three >

1 comment

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.