You want to fix me . . .

This is PART THREE 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 Black & White Image of Boy Getting a Shot

Me (DH): Dear little boy in the black & white, who are you?

Boy (NDH): You want to fix me. But I am who I am.

(DH): Do you have a name?

(NDH): Sorrow

(DH): Your name is sorrow?

(NDH): Yes.

(DH): How do you feel?

(NDH): Sad. Scared. Alone.

(DH): Why do you feel so sad, scared and alone?

(NDH): It is who I am.

(DH): Why were you born to me?

(NDH): To crack open your heart.

(DH): What can I do for you?

(NDH): Feel me. Don’t shut me out. Don’t “fix” me – I am not broken.

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

(NDH): The painful side of love is a purifying grace.

I had spent my whole life trying to “fix” Cameron, and through this dialogue I felt he was telling me he’d never been broken. But I was also getting the message that there was nothing broken in me, even though I was feeling the deepest sorrow of my life. It seemed to be telling me that these most painful emotions, if I chose to experience rather than fix them, would be the doorway to a more open heart.
~~

to be continued . . .

As always, I welcome your comments here or by email ([email protected])

Visit my website: www.DeepWaterLeafSociety.com

My inner castle holds . . .

My inner castle holds
ancient wounds
and ancient histories
mysteries
older than the sands of time

I came here with my work boots on
to dig down through
the timeworn layers
of the pyramid self
back down to the bones
the ancient circle of standing stones
my origins
my Truth

Most masks have fallen away
yet still today
secrets lie
behind fortressed gates
waiting for me
to turn the key
and set the child
completely free

My Wild Things,
benevolently and loosely ruled,
have found a place
to safely roam
their color and form
dancing through unlined pages
filling book after book
with my own
Sacred Story

Now
for every fallen or broken heart
I find a dozen more in the sand
and the one that beats
in my chest is bound
and balanced
dancing between
the falling apart
and the coming together
destruction and creation
and all of it Love

In the end
which is the beginning
what remains is the sea
and the ever blooming tree
that is Life

~Claire, the Artful Alchemist