Lucid Insanity and a very Splendid Darkness

I read somewhere that true transformation can only occur after a walk through singular darkness and abysmal pain. Who the hell made that rule? Why can’t transformation and awakening occur alongside a sparkly cloud of butterflies, shimmering angels, and miles of sunset light flowing through our fingertips? I wish I knew. God, I do. What I do know is that there is a pain so deep, and a place so dark, it kidnaps our human spirit and forces us through a solitary “acid wash” of agony, vulnerability, and anguish. I know because I’ve been there. I’ve walked the torturous tightrope, I’ve sobbed the dangerous mile. I’ve lucidly touched the brink of insanity, and I’ve seen a darkness so splendid I had to shield my eyes from it. It is there and it is real. I can’t not remember it, because it is now part of my memory; it is now a part of me.

Looking back, I realize the very moment that the cloud of my Mom’s suicide finally lifted was the very same moment that the “acid” began leaking through my walls of consciousness. Because this veil was now transparent, I was left vulnerable to the myriad of human emotions that were stored within me –once protected from my delicate conscious psyche. The emotions, attached to memories, startled and shook me, and stole my peaceful sleep and happy awake. The memories began somewhat benign, but eventually everything I knew about myself began to evaporate, change, crack. The ground I walked on my whole life suddenly became a minefield of sinkholes into an abyss I didn’t understand. Like a flood sometimes, I was trapped beneath the surface, only to look up to see my rock bottom. When I managed to come up for air, I was blasted with a meteor shower of emotion that left me blindly running for shelter, my hands bloodied in protecting my head and my heart.  I was terrified.  I was alone.  I was self-defined insane.  I was in my personal living hell.

As I sank and surrendered deeper and deeper into darkness, in the clear distance, I saw and felt a light - a beacon. A beacon I forgot about for a long while, because its intensity was too bright to see through the veil of protection. In feeling its warmth, I looked to it for hope, and with great daily effort, I treaded slowly towards this lifeboat, this gift. Through my pain and slow healing, my lifeboat anchored me, grounded me, gave me air to breath. Without its buoyancy, I would have certainly drowned. The lifeboat not only saved me, it awakened me.

As I write this and look towards the distant sunset, I am reminded of the distance I have travelled, the pain I have felt, the boundless love I have known. Through it all, I know I am lucky.  Feeling is infinitely better than numbness; longing and grieving are far better than never truly feeling the miracle and purity of love. We can’t authentically feel the beauty in our lives if we have not yet felt the other side. A good friend told me recently, “You can’t get through it until you go through it.” There is such truth to that. So, I continue to walk.  I continue to heal.  I continue to remember. But, I now know I am not alone. Love is holding my hand and wiping away my tears. Love is in me and all around me. Love truly does conquer all.

 

 

For D.

 

            A watercolor painting - "Love." Love is one of the miracles in Life.