To Weep For the World

To Weep For the World, digital collage by Claire Perkins aka ArtfulAlchemist on Polyvore.

There are days when my heart weeps for the world, and today is one of them.

It began with my thoughts about 9/11 this morning, remembering the feelings of that day. The grey skies and drizzling rain, while welcome, added to my somber mood. A misunderstood post on Facebook left me feeling defensive as I tried to explain my position on moving forward from this shared loss with more understanding and less fear. It’s far too easy to sound cavalier and dismissive when posting brief social media sound bites, and I know I can come across as hopelessly naïve and idealistic.

I feel the pain of those who lost loved ones on that day. And I feel the pain of those who perpetrated the attack. And I feel the pain of all the mothers who have lost their children in one way or another, as expressed in this video clip.

Not having suffered a personal loss of a loved one that day, my grief wells up around man’s inhumanity to man, that day and in all the days prior and since. If, one day, we could all see that there is no “us and them”, but only us, events like those of 9/11 would never happen to begin with. If we connected to each other heart to heart, in the spirit of Namaste, one divine spark to another, what a different world this could be.

On my more Pollyanna days, I believe we can get there – to that place of understanding and living our Oneness. On my darker days I fear we’ll never get there – that instead we will continue, little by little, to destroy ourselves, each other, and this planet.

Yesterday, I lit a candle to the memory of a friend’s son lost to suicide. Today I learned a colleague just lost her son to an overdose. Later this afternoon I heard a first-hand account of atrocities witnessed and experienced in a childhood hell the likes of which most of us in this country cannot even imagine. My heart feels too small to hold all this grief.

And I wonder what kind of systemic pain festers beneath the surface of this planet that can drive people to these desperate and depraved acts. But more than that, I wonder how we can heal it.

I am the Love that Heals All Wounds

This is PART FIVE of a series. To start from the beginning, go here.

This is an excerpt from The Deep Water Leaf Society: Harnessing the Transformative Power of Grief (copyright 2008, Claire M. Perkins. All Rights Reserved.)

from chapter 13: Voices from the Big Wave

I am highlighting one of these dialogues in each post of this series. The questions of the dominant hand are noted (DH) and the answers of the images, transcribed by my non-dominant hand, are noted (NDH).)

5/24/04 Dialogue with Broken-Winged Angel

Me (DH): Hello little broken-winged angel. What is your name?

Angel (NDH): Grace.

(DH): Hello, Grace, tell me about you.

(NDH): I am the love that heals all wounds. Even in my own brokenness my light shines through. I am perfect in my imperfection. The imperfection is an illusion. The truth is the glow in my heart.

(DH): How do you feel, Grace?

(NDH): Open and innocent.

(DH): Why do you feel that way?

(NDH): Because it is the truth of me.

(DH): What can I do for you?

(NDH): Accept.

(DH): What gift or wisdom do you bring to me?

(NDH): My own true self. Grace.

Again, the message was about the healing power of love and the illusion of brokenness. Something about her name, Grace, moved me. I understood grace to mean unlimited blessings without strings attached and no striving required. Grace was the generosity of God or the Universe, abundant gifts granted out of sheer love and having nothing to do with guilt or innocence or deservingness. It reminded me of the feeling I had after the Padre Pio dream, when Cameron was granted such a generous plea agreement. Grace was asking me to accept that there was a perfection beyond the appearance of things. She was helping me to reconnect to that part of me that had always known that was true.

to be continued . . .

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