Yesterday was an uncanny meeting of word and life. The first reading at Mass were Leviticus' instructions on how to treat lepers. The Gospel showed how Jesus treated - and healed - a leper. One of the isolated, unclean, outcast. The sermon encouraged each of us to be that healing touch in somebody else's life, reaching out.
An exchange after Mass made me realize how isolated I am. In that moment I realized that I am the leper. Nobody touches me. I mean it physically - nobody touches me. Somebody did.
I still don't understand. Why it happened. My reaction. How shaken I am, still. Stay shaken, o my soul.
It reminds me of one of Travis' stories from church... people ministering to those around them, simply doing what needs to be done, without question or ceremony. It was like that.
I reminds me of something I read. Somebody wrote about the one-inch punch in martial arts, bringing one into contact with a part of them they are not accustomed to. When I read the account, I thought that I would welcome the experience. (My, I am an odd duck.) And it was like that.
Would I welcome it again? Yes. I'm shaken to the core, I don't understand what I am feeling, but I know it is true, and I welcome that, no matter what it does to my perception.
Sometimes a look can catch me unexpectedly and knock me over inside. I tend to be internally set to recieve on all channels, soaking in everything. The unexpected aspect is what throws me. It was like that.
So what was so deeply disturbing wasn't what happened, or even my unpreparedness. It put me in touch with my desparate loneliness, and that shook me up pretty badly.
For spiritual health, people need to connect with those around them, and this brought my isolation to the forefront. It's bleeding me slowly from the inside. I know it. Most of the time I don't feel the pain.
I have this feeling, a physical feeling, of struggling to reach out, to connect to reality, and I feel as though my heart will burst with the urgency of it, as though I am barely containing a supernova in my body.** Am I alone in that feeling? I know, I know, I know that I am already there, there is no spoon, I know it is all about changing perception!
In seeking to walk in reality as it is, I realize that I have a long way to go. I have felt very young for the past couple of weeks. I feel younger still. I feel alone in my knowing.* I drift in and out, I know the edge is there but cannot fall off unless I just happen to, I want to die daily (as it is written) but don't know how, only know the will to do so.
I don't buy into the crap about God withdrawing His presence. I just don't. We throw up barriers that skew our perception. He never leaves. If we could do anything at all to separate God from us, then He would not be as strong as advertised!
But, knowing God is with me is a far cry from percieving and walking in it. No matter what I feel, God is with me. God is with me. I keep telling myself. God is with me.
*I know I am not alone of all humanity, through my reading. I first learned about the things named as centering, meditation, mysticism, contemplation, through direct experience, not knowing they were named, or written about - because by God's grace I experienced them without the burden of labels. It's possible that my experience is in that regard unique. That beginning is probably why I have such difficulty verbalizing these things experienced beyond the conventional senses, and my will do to so drove a few away, who were frightened of it's radical departure from religion's prescribed path. It was months later as I read more, that by happenchance I connected to (mostly Catholic) writers who put these things into words.
**I have felt it before, praying, when it seemed that nothing could be enough. One time it was with the other XA leaders, and Jerard reached out and embraced me. Can You hear the holy roar?
***Incidentally, this post shares its title with a book of poems by Kathleen Norris. I don't have the book, but am reading The Virgin of Bennington at the moment. I don't mean the title as she did, but it still seems apropos.
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6 comments:
Hello Julie,
Thanks for visiting and thanks for sharing your...unusual moment.
It seems strange to me but there is much that I would like to say in response to your post but it all comes out worthless.
Anyway, welcome to our community. I hope that you enjoy it and that you will write often.
AJ, a question -- or questions -- if I may, in order to understand. I read that you feel alone emotionally, socially, physically and spiritually. Is that correct? Are you saying that someone in the group touched you physically and that touch caused the reaction?
Be now; thank you. I understand about things coming out worthless.
I_wonder...
First question: yes, terribly. I used to wish I would die, percieving that being with God would solve this hunger. People didn't like when I would say that, though, small wonder. Now I percieve that death isn't a barrier to being with God any more than sin is. It's falling into place. I have much to learn.
And to the second, yes. To be most accurate in the temporal sense... at the moment it all hung together perfectly from my point of view. I've struggled to find the word. Not alone. At that moment, I was not alone. The overwhelmedness, was a delayed reaction or a chain reaction. I was ten feet away and partway down the stairs before it even began to hit.
You said caused. Caused, I suppose, as jumping (or being pushed) is to falling; I am not certain whether the spark is more important than the fire, but lean toward the latter. Spark is a memory. Fire is now.
Addendum to my entry, commentary on my title. I don't have these words quite right but the idea is in there:
It might not be falling off so much as letting oneself fall, by not attempting to stay on. We're so damn used to staying on that a cessation of effort is contrary to instinct.
AJ, I think you are an awakening soul. You are deeply in touch with your inner self which is connected to that sacredness known as "God". Primary reality is within, secondary reality is without. "Stillness is the language that God speaks, everything else is a bad translation". If you are alone, it is only in the physical sense, some part of you is connected to the Stillness within and knows that you are connected with all that is sacred. You KNOW this! It screams in your musings. Yes, we are supposed to touch others, yet, as you've seen from my poor example this week, the other person doesn't always respond positively. Light recognizes light, darkness/ego can only recognize darkness/ego. I believe that Jesus phrased it this way, "Let the dead bury the dead". Some will respond to your touch, others will be dead to it, but it is the act of reaching out and touching others that is most important. Even Jesus withdrew from people to recover/renew himself. Think I've said way too much. Be at peace.
Julie, I just came across this: "falling off". It touched me deeply. If I had read it earlier I would have written volumes. Your comment in response to my friend, Paul (I Wonder) requires much response. At this point I want to tell you two stories, one recent and the other in the distant past (say when I was 24, or more accurately 12-30)
Our Quaker meeting is small, convened many years ago by a man several years older than I am. Quakers often form a circle and hold hands at their gatherings, but George conceived the idea of a group hug. This didn't really strike me right (I don't like to hug people I don't know), but after a few months, Ellie and I knew everybody, and it became more natural. Most recently I hug a lot of people (women most who at the least excuse me because of my age; more often they respond).
Maybe this comes with age. Now to my 2nd story: 12-30 I lived in pretty complete isolation (at least that's how I felt). I had a hand out like a footballer's stiffarm, and everybody got the message: don't get too close to Larry. At 30 I 'awoke' and began to reach out to everyone, became a minister, shepherded 800 (hopefully recovering) alcoholics. As the years go by, I keep becoming freer (maybe more awake).
It was a spiritual thing that ended my isolation, and awakening! Your case is different from mine because you are already spiritually awake-- very awake!, very gifted spiritually. What to do?
I don't know what to tell you, Julie, except to reach out, touch other people, touch everyone in need (there are many lepers out there in your life waiting, hoping!) to be touched. Touch, and you will be touched-- overwhelmingly.
Love, and everyone will reach for you, like they did Jesus; you will have to brush them off to get your breath.
Julie, my dear, I really believe that's your future.
Julie,
Wow, strange: you directed me to this post, but when I got here I realized I'd just read it earlier today. Earlier on my blog you said something about seekers of Christ eventually running into each other, or something like that... I guess you were right!
Anyway, yeah: "We're so damn used to staying on that a cessation of effort is contrary to instinct." I was talking with a friend yesterday about meditation; she asked what it did for me, and I think she was expecting me to say something like I had these wild spiritual experiences. But for me it's just practice getting off, practice disidentifying with anything but God, practice falling.
a
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