The soul knows. It knows what is necessary to gain its’ further evolution and unfolding. The soul may call to itself the most joyous love, the blessed gifts of music and art, fulfilling years of service and compassion, the gift of being a parent or of being the child of loving parents, the satisfaction of giving oneself to a career one deeply loves, etc. However, the soul also calls to itself challenges, sometimes so deep and so burdensome that we groan and grovel beneath the weight of them, and may even rue the day we were born because of them. In this short missive I’ll address the theme of the wounded soul, of the yoke of travail we, at times, must bear for the good of our souls.
I hold the burdens, sorrows, griefs, pains of those who suffer in my fullest heart. I know, I know what it is to endure terrible suffering and I love and deeply respect those who in this lifetime are called to learn the lessons only darkness and the tormented psyche can provide. I am convinced no one of us can rise to the highest realms of love, of self-realization or of deep compassion without having first experienced what I call the sacred wound. These challenges may take the form of terrible addictions that plague us, or the wound may come at the hands of
Ignorant and selfish parents who abuse and neglect us, or we may be born with deformities, or disease, or ugliness, or too much beauty. We may suffer terrible physical wounds from war or accidents of all kinds, or grinding de-humanizing poverty. We humans suffer in so many ways it would be impossible to list them here in totality.
The age-old question we thrust at God or at the mute heavens is “Why?” The simple truth is that having endured the storm we come out the other side changed. The change may show itself in greater compassion, heart-felt empathy, a greater capacity to love and be loved, an increase in wisdom and knowledge, or perhaps a centeredness of spirit that testifies to us of our own strength and goodness. One may find an increase of courage to live a full life or to love more daringly. The gifts that come from experiencing these grim storms of life are at least equal to or exceed the ways we can be wounded.
We have a choice: to curse the darkness, or become a brighter light. It seems to me the better path is that from the burnt carbon of our suffering, light, love and compassion spring forth. I understand and appreciate that while one is grappling with the beast of a terrible challenge it is supremely difficult to see any light at all. So let me give you a salve to apply in first aid to your soul when the challenges come, or perhaps after they have been endured. And that salve is this: I know the soul is eternal. I know the soul to be far beyond our comprehension of awesomeness. I know you and I are Love and are loved beyond any dream this mortal journey can comprehend. I know that the most terrible burdens can be transformed into love.
A poem:
SACRED WOUND
By Christopher Hardt
I have cursed you God
For wounding me
For cutting into my innocent heart
And smashing it
Against the hard, cold stone of your face.
I have screamed profanities
With spit slobbering from swollen lips
My rage so hot the froth of my anger
Seemed like some swelling, bursting magma
From the center of my soul.
I have cursed you God
Until exhausted, and quaking on knees,
You forced to the ground,
I cried,
Leave me alone!
Just leave me alone!
To come now after so many years
To understand the wound is a sacred thing
Agreed to in some hidden beginning
Is transforming.