What's a girl to do? Shards of life?

There it is again! That dreaded pain, splintering and screaming into my mind.  Just when I think I have all the pieces swept up and picked up, there it is again. One last piece that got away, one that missed my control freak mindfulness. Then it happens, I step into it. One big quick breath and there I am again thrown into a panic of shame and anger. The memory of the initial pain floods my mind, my body winces and I cringe.  There it stays for moments of relishing for me alone. Is  it enough that the folly was mine, and was clear for all to see? Was it enough for me to go into that cave of self abasing depth.  Similar to the feeling of recognizing my mistakes as a parent, as a friend and especially the mistakes I made to myself.  To those on the outside, it may seem as if I have forgotten the mistakes I have made to myself.  In truth, I can not forget those mistakes, nor is it an easy task to forgive those mistakes.  It is so easy to forgive someone elses' mistakes rather than my own.  I can easily see another person's humanity before I can recognize it in myself.  I can readily see the humanity in their face, their body and their countenance.  There isn't a mirror to recognize my own humanity that is available twenty-four hours a day in the darkness of the night or light of day.  Even if I had that mirror to pause and look into when I find the remaining shard, how could I possibly hold onto it long enough?              

 

How do you safely pick up those painful shards?  Can I do this once again? This time can I do it without drawing blood or feeling the pain as sharply as I did the first time?  Somewhere I read it is best to pick up shards and slivers with a piece of bread.  Bread that is so soft and porous.  Bread, not toast, not stale, not old but soft bread, malleable and fragile, in a state that tears so easily. Then and only then, can the pieces be picked up easily and without pain. Like bread, my humanity must be in the right condition, the right state to pick up the shards.  I must see my fragility, my malleability, my soft under belly to withstand removing the shard of shame, self loathing and anger over my mistakes and faults.  Then as if in a miracle, the slivery shard is removed, painlessly and with forgiveness.

There it is that reflection, that mirror of my humanity wedged inside of my fragility. I can see a partial image of my face. The sad eye that is sensitive to the light of openness. Openness to the shame being revealed. The faults, follies and mistakes looking back at me in the reeling shame.  Why must I be so hard? Why must I take on the task master role long after the day has passed? Isn't it easier to just feel the pang of sadness and remorse and to then move on? Reliving those moments somehow remind me that I am alive, that I am a spiritual being having a human experience. Everyday seems like operating on auto pilot in human-ness.  Auto pilot is not living and is definitely not learning.  Once in a while we have this default setting on our souls.  It is that auto pilot shut off default switch that causes us to stop, feel the pain and take back the moment in thought and reflection.  Oh yes, I am actually alive, feel pain and know the markings of my own humanity.  My limitations as a human creature so deep that it has to be felt intensely and with emotion. It is that emotion that marks our human journey.  Being human isn't easy for a spirit.  Being spiritual isn't easy as a human either. Knowing we must co-exist is paramount to our progress and learning. 

Where have I gone?  I am still in here trying to co-exist and balance the contrast of such a mission. Balance the humanity and spirituality of this life.  Balancing my spinning plates and juggling my roles of mother, writer, friend, neighbor, teacher and leader against the fragile role of learner, student, child, explorer and watcher.  There is a way to be efficient and human and spiritual in this day and age.  The one answer to my own struggle to balance the power and push and soft under-belly of my soul's journey. Love. Just as the love that we give away to others, I must give it to myself.  When I least expect it and without the asking. Freely, unconditional and divine.   Loving the spirit being and loving the human being.  Then in a smile I am brought to the idea of peanut butter and jelly co-existing in between two slices of bread. Like the ying and yang of co-existence.  I feel like a child again, giddy and creating from within my place of power, my true self, my loving self. Learning to love myself again.  Seeing the beauty in imperfection and embracing it for my own nurturing. There is the comfort, found in the simplicity of balance. Love and peanut butter and jelly, messy and yummy. So what's a girl to do? Pick up the pieces and make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.