Borrowed Eyes and Feet

Facing our fears and unearthing the truth can hurt on many levels. It can also be the breakthrough necessary for healing to begin. This is beautifully reflected in a line from A Course in Miracles: “For miracles are merely change of purpose from hurt to healing.” I cut myself under the delusion that I could avoid my pain. I created physical pain to mask my mental pain. All I wanted was an answer, something that would cut to the truth I was seeking. My anger festered during my youth, eventually infecting my adulthood. I misperceived all of my parents’ heartfelt expressions of love and concern as insincere garbage, especially because it came from people who couldn’t understand and whom I held responsible for my pain in the first place. Regrettably, the thousands of hugs, kisses, and “I love yous” my parents gave me fell short because of my inability to receive any of these things. My parents were in a predicament. Unable to understand my plight, how could they express any sort of empathy? No matter how much effort they put forth, I didn’t allow myself to receive their love, their advice, or any attempt they made to understand my situation. I left them stranded in a place of helplessness and hopelessness. How in the world could I expect anyone to understand my insanity? I had been running from the truth, fearing I could not share it with anyone because I would face ridicule and indifference. This inevitably changed the way I saw the world. Still deep in meditation, I envision the piece of glass grasped tightly between my forefinger and thumb, causing my fingers to ache and tremble. Tears paint my cheeks in the sadness and suffering of my past married with the happiness of my new beginning. I firmly press the razor-sharp glass into my wrist. Beginning just below the palm of my right hand, slicing through my flesh straight down the center of my wrist, the glass glides between the tendons surrounding the median nerve. The small indent formed by the tendons in my wrist creates a runway to guide the glass through my flesh. My delicate skin gives way to this intruder without resistance like a speedboat ripping through the water. The boat’s wake affects everything in its path. Nearby vessels suddenly rock up and down and side to side. Then, just as suddenly as the water is torn apart, peace is restored and the ocean again becomes one. Tendons and ligaments are now exposed, an image my eyes were never meant to see, and I wince from the pain. Blood soaks my fingers with the dark red hue of life. Or is this my death? Am I cutting through my harsh exterior to reveal my true self? For decades I have known who was underneath this exterior, but my anger and fear prevented me from revealing this identity. Relief soon follows the excruciating pain. This is the moment when peace is restored and I become one again. I have been awakened to my new beginning. I snap out of my deep meditative silence, returning to consciousness. I feel free, as though a burden has been lifted. The storm clouds of my painful past have broken to reveal a shining light of love.