connecting with others can heal every wound, every time

For a time, I wondered if our poetry project was selfish.

Frost Grass, geometric art by Douglas P. Hill.

After all, it is about spreading my poetry into the world according to my vision, given to me via my interpretation of my personal wisdom. At the core, I am asking others – most often, complete strangers – to think about my art and take time from their lives to tuck my poems into interesting and inspired places where perhaps other strangers will find – wait, wait, here it comes: my poetry.

Those of  you of a certain age and culture will understand when I say that the old “Saturday Night Live” Al Franken skits strike a chord here.

Like many others whose lives have been lived outside the margins of a mainstream, consensual reality, guided by an unceasing compulsion to walk toward the light and hold beauty and the workings of an opening heart above nearly all else, I have at times been held captive by a weary ache to simply, somehow, belong.

Just two days ago, I fell into a jag-edged crevasse of doubt and loneliness after being carried aloft by the bliss and promise of what is unfolding with our poetry-sharing adventure.  Patience, trust, and contentment with the here and now leaked from nearly every pore, evaporating when it hit the now-dense atmosphere and clogging my senses. This is not an uncommon waystation for me — this pause in between shifting breaths of consciousness — and I know full well that others of you know of what I speak.

Why hadn’t an agent responded to my query letter and leaped at the chance to represent my work of literary fiction? Given the population on Earth, why hadn’t more people rushed to become part of the Words Divinely Wrought “Initial 33”? Where was my beloved partner? Who would I turn to if I was suddenly struck by health issues and unable to care for myself? Had I lost forever the golden thread that had so often led me to be in the right place at the right time doing exactly the right thing? Exactly how much longer would my 17-year-old, four-wheeled vehicle continue to provide me with safe, reliable transport?

Can I get a witness?

My response was to drive 50 miles and walk in unannounced and unappointmented to a practitioner I have been working with – and collapse in a morass of tears on his treatment table.  Even this act was fraught with waves of angst: “You know,” I told him, “I basically drive a hundred miles to pay you money just to be present with me for less than an hour, which seems like a pretty sorry situation…”

He offered everything I needed. A tweaking of my central nervous system and physical structure; a smoothing of my whacked energy; some gentle reminders about the nature of my soul’s path, the challenges I have agreed to, and the boundless Love that surrounds me. All topped off with a big ole bear hug.

I tell you this because it is so easy — even now — to slip and slide into that place where we believe we are alone and overlooked and unnoticed and freakishly separate from everything and everyone else. Each of our journeys is unique in tone and each of us navigates the byways of becoming in deeply personal ways. Or, do we? The most-cited search phrase by people who stumble upon my blog is some flavor of  “I feel lost and alone,” which takes the searcher directly to this poetic dose of faith and inspiration.

Each email or comment I receive from any of you — and then share with an ever-widening community — is a precious jewel that illuminates the web of existence.  Seeing your photos and hearing your excitement at being part of our emerging family lightens every heart. Knowing that Jane in England connected with Christine in Australia; that Simonetta’s Italian translations may now be carried to Italy by Janet from California; that a beautiful new friend seeks to learn more about energy and spirituality in the midst of a perfect storm of loss and transition; that Maggie from the UK will soon be a mere 140 miles from where I live and perhaps we will connect in the physical; that Christine’s banyan tree vibrational essence “for community support” mingles in my mouth each day and rests beside me as I sleep…

…this is our healing, our balm, our co-created warp and woof as together we weave this breathtakingly glorious tapestry of life on Earth.

The tears that I shed this morning upon hearing Simonetta speaking my words in Italian, sent to me from The Netherlands, are tears of remembrance and deep knowing. We are All One. There is only one of us here. In love and unity lie the hope and promise of our future.

Thank you for participating – in whatever small or large way — in Our divine adventure. There is great healing here, brought about in part by our transitory bumps, blips, and tumblings down into the abyss.

Simonetta has posted her Italian translations of Prayer for Inclusion and You Are The Prayer, along with the audio. To hear the voiced versions, scroll down toward the bottom of the page. It matters not whether you understand Italian: listen with your heart to what you (and I) know rests in our collective, unmutable spirit…

…even when sometimes we momentarily forget.

5 comments

  1. Dear Rachel, I sometimes forget that stretching one’s soul to meet the other is still wrought with occasional doubts. Don’t doubt again, for even if you were the last person on our earth, you’d still not be alone. No one ever is. We are all threads woven into the endless fabric of love. We chose to be three-dimensional, and we are here only for a moment which to us seems to be a long haul. It’s just our perception. All is well and all is on track and you are weaving away merrily.

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  2. BARB

    Dear Rachel… perhaps it was your expectations of what you had envisioned happening…. that always gets me in doubt and self deprecation. I am also very sure that you are not alone because you have connected with the exact amount of people that you need to touch and touch you…. the number 33 is a random number I am assuming that might not be reached this time…. But I know your poetry has always touched me and cleared my vision….Keep the faith and give up time limits….time is something we all made up to make the world more sensible but when you think of it, we create our own sense of time and rhythm… take care….BT

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  3. jane Cross

    Rachel, Keep the faith…your poetry is beautiful and meaningful and is finding its way in the world. I gave A Prayer for Inclusion to a friend here in LA, and she loved it, and will most likely want to be one of the 33. Remember that JK Rowling got 9 rejections before finding a publisher. Send your novella to 9 more agents!
    xxx

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  4. Rose Mary, Barb, Jane,

    Thank you for your open hearts and your wisdom. My way has always been to embrace and acknowledge my shadow experiences — as I know they, too, are part and parcel of expanding Light and consciousness.

    What I bring back with me from the crevasse isn’t as important as the fact that I did not shirk from fully feeling and embracing the full spectrum of the journey. Jewels are waiting to be plucked from within and beneath these glitches and inner turbulence.

    It is always a blessing to return to expressions of love and support from friends, and I am grateful that you are in my circle with arms outstretched, bearing gifts of compassion and offering sips of nurturance and morsels of remembering.

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  5. dear rachel, the effort to live truly is never-ending, it is so much easier to slide into a morass and lie fallow … for a while, then you are called back to it again and again, living the life that is called for, here and now …. when i was young i imagined that i was purple and most people were not, but every now and then i could see another purple person, on the bus, or in the street in the distance, i knew i was not alone although it usually felt as though i was, and there was no-one to put me back together then …. somehow i now recognise other lightworkers, they are ‘purple’ like me …. and all the others are part of the great tapestry, threads of their own colour :) may your tangles unravel and your silk be full of light! christine

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