Oh, the miracles that transpire when we truly seek! The omens that God lays on our path! The clues! The guide posts on the path we're drawn down, sometimes without our permission.
I related to Liz's anger, the "burning up" she felt while fighting the "Geet". I, too, have bucked. I've fought. I've protested in anger. "Why do I have to do this? I don't understand!" Then, somehow, we come to a place where we must give ourselves over passionately, frantically and desperately. I have to do this and I don't know why. That's where I am as I write this. I am doing this thing, writing this blog and I don't know why. Maybe I could justify it with some self-serving reason, but it wouldn't be a good one.
Now, I'm not jumping out of second story windows or bleeding from my leg, but I keep writing. And, I don't know why! I, actually, don't think this is such a good idea, yet still I write. I can't turn back, now. I'm too far in. I think what I write is dull and un-insightful. I think I'm a self-righteous blow-hard, struck with a little bit of God consciousness. I talk about God sometimes with some sort of authority. I really don't know what the hell I'm talking about. This stuff just comes to me and I write it down.
Maybe the purpose of this blog is to vent all the intellectual or inarticulate crap that's built up in my skull. Still, I think, nobody will ever want to see this. Oddly enough, I'm simultaneously hoping nobody will read this lest I be judged mercilessly and hoping that everybody will see this and celebrate this unique, brilliant and well-executed idea. Then, start the negative thoughts: "Oh please! Somebody else has had this idea, written it already and it's a million times better (maybe only a thousand) than mine.
But still I write! Through all this mental jousting with myself, through all this fruitless searching for meaning and validation, I still write! I have this fear that my fiancee will read this and her reaction will be much like Wendy Torrence's in "The Shining". My writing will be equivalent to "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" written over and over and over. Stupid demons that haunt me!
I'm assuming I'm not the only one who struggles like this. Whatever Liz was afraid of, she got over it by a selfless act of dedicating her chanting of the "Geet" to her nephew. The only way to keep it is to give it away.
She writes, "The little soul I'd wanted to help was actually helping me." p 169
That reminds me of when, in early sobriety, men would say, "You're probably helping me more than I'm helping you." I didn't understand what they were talking about. They said, "don't worry. Some day you will." Now, I say the same thing to guys I'm trying to help. And, they don't understand what I'm talking about. And, I say, "don't worry. Some day you will."
Then, God laid a little affirmation in her path: The phone call with her sister. The story from the book she was reading. Her room mate absent-mindedly and inexplicably locking Liz in their room. Then, her room mates dream! It's all to coincidental to be coincidental. God works through miracles (here I go, again). All we have to do is look for them. They are there to guide us along the way, to assure us in times of trouble, to inspire us to not give up.
Tagore writes: "My Guide, I am a wayfarer on an endless road, my greetings of a wanderer to You." That's how I feel right now, like a wanderer. I'm aimed in what I think is the right direction. I'm wandering down an uncertain path, the rocks and brambles of my mistakes cutting and my feet and shins. I'm not even sure if this is the right path or if I'm even walking the right way. But, still I go.
I try to lift my head up to the world, but I keep getting caught looking at my missteps, seeing where my lack of planning and preparation has dogged my every step. It's like I forgot to bring shoes. However, my journey isn't solo. I have a companion: my fiancee. And, it's like I have to borrow her shoes. Then, her feet get cut up too. She says she doesn't mind, but I hate to ask for them again. I'm afraid of bringing her down.
I must remember the book idea! It was so strong I couldn't sleep. Ignoring that would be like turning from God in fear, not having enough faith that He knows what He's doing. I keep writing almost every day without knowing why. Why not assemble a book without knowing why? The reasons will be revealed later. I know that. I believe the omens have directed me this far. Why not keep following them and see where they lead?
And, as far as this blog? Maybe, somebody, someday will read this and they'll be going through similar troubles, doubts and fears. Maybe it will be a comfort to them to know somebody else has gone through the exact, same thing. Liz has helped me. I could only humbly hope that my words could help some one else.
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