This week’s trip to a big city, I was reminded of all the things I enjoy about population density: walking everywhere, prolific public transit, the human hum of a whole city going about its life and livelihood, the character of specialty shops and eateries, the visible diversity of human endeavor and ways of being in the world, the embrace of style and pursuit of individual and communal dreams.
I was also reminded of things that are harder to bear: the stifle, the pollution, the visible poverty and deprivation, the raw open wound of the needs of so many. I have often wondered why I seem drawn to some people in big cities, only to find myself broken open afterwards in one way or another. On this trip, I have understood that it is like being drawn to tears in the fabric of wholeness. Come on, come already, walk by, walk through, and in so doing, resolve balance, ladle balm, make it whole, make it a little more whole.
There is often a conflict between instincts: how much can I give without depleting my own stores — of fragile content, of peace of mind? If I am scanning a situation for difficulty or danger, does the all-clear pertain to physical safety? Does it regard comfort? Does it weigh my life in the balance with another’s? Am I assessed, constantly, as having more to give than I think I do? Which voice is speaking in me — does it draw on my intellect and experience as well as pure Spirit? Is it the voice of fear or of love?
I am beginning to understand that separateness is the motion of fear. It keeps us apart. On the other hand, we do have free choices to make, each and every time, about how much of ourselves we are willing to give. We cannot only and always and ever give. We must also nourish our own present wholeness, which grounds our ability to give. Spirit moves best through a whole vessel. Help keep me whole, God. Help me keep myself well and whole, not always apart from the world, but not spilled out entirely for it either. Flow through me and help me be aware of my choices, easy with them, and with your Flow through me. Keep my eyes open and true, so I may recognize twists and turns as they occur, and ride them gracefully, my ear tuned always to Your will.