Friday, September 24, 2010

All that glorious suffering.

Suffering is a treasure, for it conceals mercies;
The almond becomes fresh when you peel off the rind.
O my brother, staying in a cold dark place
And bearing patiently the grief, weakness, and pain
Is the Source of Life and the cup of Abandon!
The heights are found only in the depths of abasement;
Spring is hidden in autumn, and autumn pregnant with spring.
Flee neither; be the friend of Grief, accept desolation,
Hunt for the life that springs from the death of yourself.

-  Rumi




I do have a hard time with all this Treasure of Suffering stuff. My life, my heart - pretty darn good treasure before. Source of life, springs of goodness - all that. For now, I take these poems, these lines, as ~ this is supposed to be desolation. This is supposed to be pain. Drink it down, my friend; this is the cup you have.


I am off to shovel goat poop in the rain.

3 comments:

  1. Okay Megan, I'm going to try this again. I wrote you a comment earlier today from my iPhone, but then something went haywire, and I lost it.

    Back when Michael and I first got together I knew that we had the good fortune to have something to treasure in each other. When he was diagnosed with his tumor our treasure, or pot of gold, began to feel tarnished. There was so much to work through. In the two years that followed I was able to get back on track feeling like our relationship was once again a treasure. After Michael died those things that I treasured now became sources of pain. Everything that connected me to him now cut me like a knife.

    I look forward to the day that thoughts of what we had, and the things we did, are once again sources of joy. I have had enough of suffering, yet it is true, the suffering does seem to correlate with the depths of love once shared.

    In this way it is really hard to know what we want. Will it ultimately feel painful to not be so desolate?

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  2. Shoveling goat poop in the rain isn't really all that bad -- having done so many a time in rain, sleet, and snow. Just try to avoid doing it on a hot, humid summer day. Take it from me, it's not so much fun. (-:

    What dad wrote above: I look forward to the day that thoughts of what we had, and the things we did, are once again sources of joy. I have had enough of suffering, yet it is true, the suffering does seem to correlate with the depths of love once shared.

    It's taken two years, but I know I've reached that point at which I can look back on the past and see more than the suffering. In the past week or so, I've had dreams of driving the van with Don sitting in the passenger seat. I'm pretty sure we were going somewhere - and not just to a hospital. In two of the three dreams, I'm sure he that illness played no part - one time, yes, I think so. Until now, the only dreams I have had of Don were the hospital dreams. He was always sick, in a wheelchair, in a bed. That my subconscious seems willing to let go of that imagery.... well.... I think reflects how I feel now. That I don't want to keep hanging onto that sad period of our lives. Sometimes, I think that we have to allow our minds to overwrite the good atop the sad - to create a sort of palimpsest - we don't want to forget the past, but we need to let that overwriting happen as, otherwise, we are frozen in one place. Is that really where we want to remain?

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  3. haha... meant to write "what Dan wrote above:"

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