"This being human is a guest house.
Every day a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
Who violently sweep your house
Empty of its furniture,
Still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
For some new delight."
~Rumi
It seems there is a certain time of every year when pain, suffering and death come. It is not always the same time of year but when it comes it seems to take up residence until it is ready to leave. We don't get to choose the time of year though it does seem that winter is often to be the most likely season. This year, however, it has been different. Late summer and early fall has held its share of sadness, of loss.
This loss that is present has caused me to reflect on the matter of what it is that heals us. What is it that brings a mending, a reaching toward wholeness that brings us back to center, back to who we know ourselves to be? There are many answers to this question: beauty, laughter, prayer, a child's presence,a brilliant sunset, bread or the sweet taste of any food that comforts.
I believe music heals us. Singing with others, having others sing to you, being surrounded by the fragile, tentative voices of other humans making the effort to bring music to birth. I am not sure if it matters what music it is, perhaps it does, but I am sure that in any situation needing healing, 'Silent Night' rarely fails to do the job.
Of the words that can heal us, I believe they must be spare. Perhaps there are sermons that heal, or speeches, but I have never experienced them. Most often in these situations there is too much space being taken up by words. But a poem, in my estimation, is what is needed for healing. Those few carefully chosen, labored over words, that fit together like a marvelous puzzle will almost always pull loss toward wholeness.
And the final thing that I believe is imperative to healing is community. The gathering together of loving friends, sometimes perfect strangers,like minds, soft hearts, to allow the suffering one to name and be named moves everyone to the edge of what it means to be human. In that energy that is generated by the collective breath and presence of one another, all are nudged to remember and reclaim the Breath that breathed them into being and continues to hold them in deep love.
I believe this and know it to be true because I have lived it and I am grateful.