What follows is a meditation from Friar Richard Rohr. It speaks to me pretty directly. It's easy to portray a misrepresentation of our lives on things like facebook. Lots of people have said to me recently something along the lines of, "glad to see you're having an amazing time in Cornwall". What they see is the photos I put up of beautiful places on sunshiney days. Of which there have been plenty and for which I am so grateful. I will continue to celebrate and capture the wonder-full moments.
But what they don't see is the mist that often rests on our hilltop and prevents us from seeing that beautiful view. The damp and the insects and the cold that have crept into the house as summer draws to an end. The days we don't leave the living room because we can't face making conversation with people we still don't know very well. The sadness that arises from having more time to think and feel. The heaviness we can't explain. The questions hovering that make us uncomfortable and unsure of where to turn.
I'm not saying this to get your sympathy. I don't want pats on the back or concerned looks. I'm just trying to say it how it is. We are past the honeymoon period and being in a new and different place that we don't yet understand is hard. Missing friends is hard. Not knowing quite where we're headed is hard. Struggling with things that we used to accept and are expected to find easy, is hard.
I hope I'm not complaining. It's not bad. We don't regret moving. We don't want to go back. We are not starving, we have always had enough, we have jobs, we have met some brilliant people, we are not alone. There is much to be thankful for.
I'm just saying that despite this, there's been a lot of tears lately. There's been mask-wearing and attempts to remove the half-hearted facade. That's the truth. That's how life is sometimes. Sometimes hope-full, sometimes desperate, sometimes funny, sometimes peaceful, sometimes stormy, sometimes lonely, sometimes surrounded, sometimes all of that and more at the same time. Like today I could just as well have written about St Ives, or my birthday, or more coastal explorations, or open-mic-ing in Penzance. But I didn't. Maybe I will tomorrow.
And although it may not 'feel' like it, with all these ups and downs and golden and blues and greys, we do have choices in how we respond...
[so God help us]
***
"How does one transition from the survival dance to the sacred dance? Let me tell you how it starts. Did you know the first half of life has to fail you? In fact, if you do not recognize an eventual and necessary dissatisfaction (in the form of sadness, restlessness, emptiness, intellectual conflict, spiritual boredom, or even loss of faith, etc.), you will not move on to maturity. You see, faith really is about moving outside your comfort zone, trusting God’s lead, instead of just forever shoring up home base. Too often, early religious conditioning largely substitutes for any real faith.
Usually, without growth being forced on us, few of us go willingly on the spiritual journey. Why would we? The rug has to be pulled out from beneath our game, so we redefine what balance really is. More than anything else, this falling/rising cycle is what moves us into the second half of our own lives. There is a necessary suffering to human life, and if we avoid its cycles we remain immature forever. It can take the form of failed relationships, facing our own shadow self, conflicts and contradictions, disappointments, moral lapses, or depression in any number of forms.
All of these have the potential to either edge us forward in life or to dig in our heels even deeper, producing narcissistic and adolescent responses that everybody can see except ourselves. We either “fall upward,” or we just keep falling"
~ Richard Rohr
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