transforming our pain

All of us experience the absurd, the tragic, the nonsensical, the unjust… if we cannot find some way to transmute our wounds into sacred wounds, we invariably become cynical, negative or bitter… if we do not transform this pain we will most assuredly transmit it, usually to those closest to us…

                                                                        Richard Rohr

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Sometimes

In those quiet moments

As the wind blows in the firs

And the snow falls

Sometimes when the monkey brain quiets

And in the relative calmness thoughts emerge from their hiding places

Deep within my soul

I realize just how much life has touched me

for good and for ill

I realize that I have been shaped and molded

By all that has transpired

There have been victories that have built me up,

given me reason for pride

And there have been failures and fears that placed me

Among the walking wounded

And what I have come to understand

that it is absolutely critical, for me to be aware

of that which I carry with me

for what I carry I share

knowingly or not

If I carry pain, I share pain

If I carry hate, I share hate

If I carry fear, I share fear

What I carry I pass on, to those around me

That is not all bad

For if I carry love, that is what I pass on

If I carry hope, or joy, or peace, that too

It is all contagious!

There is nothing wrong with any of it

Life happens, and we are always moving from joy to anger

From peace to fear, from love to hate

But we must choose what we carry

And that we do not want to pass along, we must allow to be transformed

We must hold it, accept it,

We must release it, and allow it thus to be changed

Just as Jesus held on to his pain, his fear, his anguish

And allowed it to become resurrection

What is it I hang on to?

You can see it in what I pass on!

What is it you hang on to?

You can see it in what you pass on!

This is why I feel so much compassion these days

For the fearful hoarders

And the angry haters

For they are merely passing on their own misery

I will always be a mixed bag

There will always be times when what I pass on, is my wounds

But there will also be times when what I pass on is love, and healing, hope and peace

When my wounds become sacred

And an instrument for not only my own healing

But for the healing of those around me