I have been trying so hard to get back to that good feeling.
Or at least out of this bad one.
I have done my research. I have read the books and listened to the interviews and journaled and taken all my vitamins.
And now this plexiglass is here.
It’s a spring day, and I can see the path outstretched before me. The good feeling is just on the other side of this plexiglass. I can see it. But no matter how hard I try to get around it, I can’t.
I slam my fists against it. I heave the weight of my body on to it. Flailing my limbs in a restless fit. Tears stream down my cheeks. I scream. I collapse.
“I’m trying…I’m trying…”
“I know, sweetie,” comes a voice, “I know you are trying.”
I look up. It’s Love.
I know Love well enough by now that I don’t resist their presence.
“Why is this plexiglass here? Why can’t I get around it?”
Love looks at the plexiglass, and then at me. “I’m not exactly sure why it is here. But I do know why you can’t get around it.”
“Because you’re trying so hard to get around it.”
I throw my hands in the air, “What else am I supposed to do?”
Love sits next to me, leaning their back against the plexiglass. “Here’s what I do in these situations… I wait.”
“You wait? Wait for what?”
“I wait for The Answer to come and find me. Would you care to wait with me?”
I am suddenly a child. I don’t care about getting anywhere. I just know I have this pain in me and I want Love to hold me.
I nod, sheepishly.
“Come here,” says Love with their arms outstretched, “Let me hold you while we wait.”
I match my breathing to theirs until I fall asleep.
Somewhere between dreaming and waking, I hear something beyond words. It’s more like a felt sense in my body.
Something about how it was never my job to have to save myself.
Something about how it is safe to become naked with life again.
About how that good feeling over there isn’t the point, because what more can we ask for than waiting here in the arms of love? It feels like enough.
“Here is enough,” whispers Love.
My body believes them.
It’s been three days since I discovered the plexiglass. It is still here, although something about Love’s presence seems to disintegrate it.
Love doesn’t seem worried, or in a hurry.
They ask me to play with them here for a while. For “as long as it takes.”
They ask me if I am humble enough to begin again.
“Are you humble enough to re-learn how to move forward?”
I’m being asked to go slow. To look for what’s good here. Because I see what I look for.
“And you experience what you see,” adds Love.
I have a sneaking suspicion Love knows how to get through the plexiglass. But that doesn’t seem to be the point anymore. Remembering how to be here seems to be the point.
“Will you trust me?” asks Love.
I look away, not sure I can say yes to that.
“Well…I can trust you for today.”
Love smiles, “That’s enough.”