LIFT ME UP: Reaching Toward Love by Cynthia Long
Until the cloud weeps, how can the garden flourish? Until the baby cries, how can the milk flow? ~ Rumi
Here in Toronto the last few days have brought waves of energy, heavy like a fog, disturbing like smoke, painful like fever. Sirens rise up around the city, and outside the window a little girl crashes off her scooter on the steep hill and screams, bringing her father running.
My dog shivers in the corner, feeling an oncoming storm. Conflicts arise between loved ones. Emotion stirs deep in the belly, old, old fears surface to be witnessed and healed.
Why do we have such days? Why do these times often come with a change of weather, a foreboding sky? Why do we experience moments when we lose sight of joy and direction, when old wounds seem to rise raging, even the ones we thought we had dealt with, even the ones…
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