A gaping hole of loss and sorrow sits inside of me- a soft, heavy knot, waiting, waiting… The flurry of messes, children, study, deadlines, pressures and chores allow me, in spurts, to cruise along and ignore the hole- and I can even forget about it for periods of time- but when I least expect it or am prepared to deal with it, it rears its head and eviscerates me, leaving me a pile of wet ashes in the corner.

I am running. When I am running, I am afraid. Afraid I will let myself down. Afraid that past patterns of neglectful personal behavior are so strong in their gravity I cannot escape them any more than a star can chose a new place in the galaxy. God can move mountains, and it shows my gossamer vulnerability that dark fears cast long fingered shadows on my faith. I know better. Yet it zeros in with precision on the soft white underbelly of my soul.

So I keep running. I have to. The only difference is, now I think I am beginning to understand. I am beginning to notice, as I notice outside the flurry and pain for brief moments, that what I have always done in the past no longer serves me, and I must, once again, dig deep and take a long, honest look at myself. It’s like trying to stand on a ball- you have only the barest glimmer of a moment of perfect balance, before you are once again thrown off, using all your might to find that place of stillness again. Only memory guides the yearn for balance- and memory is a tricky thing.

My mind an insatiable black hole, so severe in it’s gravity it devours anything that comes near, and emitting a seemingly unending fountain of invisible radiation back into space. You can’t see it, but it’s needs devour and overtake everything. Only recently have I realized this- and with that realization came the notion that maybe, just maybe, my mind doesn’t really rule my world. Maybe there is wisdom in my body, in my heart, as well. Wisdom that is overshadowed by the unending noise generated from above.

My head wants to be entertained, but my heart is still and quiet. My mouth wants a party of tastes and textures, but my belly is full and needs nothing. My eyes want to drive, but my arms and legs are the vehicle. It’s deceptive and frightening how the intellectual noise completely shouts out the wisdom of the body.

So I’ve got some work to do. I’ve got some knots to unravel, and some radiation to redirect. I’m okay. Ironically, I’m actually more okay than I’ve been in a long time…