A Song in the Darkness

Today, friends and I talked about "Being Strong Enough."

That's not how we phrased it, of course, but it's the painful meaning that comes through the words. Because there is this underlying belief - and, if you're like us, you probably feel it too - that "I should" be able to handle this, or that. That "I should" be able to overcome this pain and that self-doubt. That "I should" be strong minded enough to conquer the depression, strong hearted enough to quit thinking of my issues, strong willed enough to manifest a perfect life for my family.

Oh yeah, and for myself.

And when the muscles of will and mind and heart break down under that constant burden of should, what do we do and where do we turn? Because, yeah, we can tell each other to find someone to talk to, to look into medication, to get "me time;" and we may promise each other we will do those important things. But when we're alone...

When I'm alone, in the darkest hour of the night, and I feel like I can hear all the thoughts of all the people and maybe I'm not sleeping but at least it's not the next day yet, please don't let it be tomorrow yet because this day is done and I don't want to face another, and I just can't do it alone, but I can't make myself reach for that hand because I don't even know WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?!!! and it's too dark to see the hand anyway and why should they care because I'm not strong enough and I've failed...

When I am alone and I allow the thoughts to over run me, when I am too tired to fight anymore and I am "weak" enough to hear all of my fears and anxieties - not even admit them or fix them, just hear them -  I reach the eye of the storm.

And in that stillness, first I hear my heart beat.

Sometimes it's a disappointing sound, because I know the sun will shine again and I'll walk through another day.

And sometimes it's a triumphant sound. Because I KNOW the sun will shine again and I WILL walk through another day.

And sometimes, the best times, it's just a sound. A beat. And a measure of breath.

And my breathing is actually a sigh timed to the drum beat. Beat. And sigh. And beat. And sigh.

And the deeper I breathe, the deeper the beat feels, until it touches my blood. Which is a flowing whoosh. 

A beat. A sigh. A whoosh. So peaceful. So absorbing. Beat. Sigh Whoosh. Sigh. Beat. Beat. Whoosh.

Such a perfect harmony to the hum of the neurons.

Hum. Whoosh. Sigh. Beat.

Beat.

A beat that is so deep, so full, so profound it can't be my heart. It can't be simply my heart. It's so much bigger than my heart.

An Infinite heart, beating in time with mine.

A Compassionate breath, sighing along with mine.

A Nourishing blood, whooshing around with mine.

An Accepting neuron, humming along with mine.

Sparkling, dancing neurons, like stars in the firmament. The vast, Omnipresent firmament. So deep, so encompassing, so full of every moment and every being and every thought.

So Nourishing and Compassionate and Infinite. And strong.

Hear that heart beat, beat. So strongly. Wrapped around me. Connected to me.

To which I am connected.

Of which I am a part.

Which means I am not alone.

Which means I don't have to be strong enough to do it alone.

To fix it alone.

To bear it.

Because my heart does not beat alone. It is only one part of the rythym section. My breath does not sigh alone; it is in a chorus. And my blood whooshes with others, shivering strings on a harp. And my neurons, oh my neurons hum in melody with a godzillion other stars.

All the strength I need is the strength to hear my heart beat.

I hope you can hear the song.

-Lila