Like silk
whispering across my skin;
a gentle mist
kissing my soul;
kindness unburdening me;
warmth, and cinnamon spice;
She comes.
Of the Earth, is She
whose heart beats with mine
a rhythm of life
renewal
and deepest bliss
Her essence luminous and night
shimmering at the water’s edge
or pulsating at the core
of darkness
Alive. Very much alive.
No fanfare proceeds Her,
No choir of angels.
In stillness, know Her.
In openness, receive Her.
She is here.
She is here.
(This fable follows “The Kingdom” )
After years of being “locked” away in the tower, the Princess came out. She joined her father, the King, in his celebration of the new advisers in the Kingdom. She felt inspired by the changes her father was making, and decided it was time she made some too.
So, she moved out of the castle and into the valley.
Because she was royalty, the Princess sent a messenger and servant to prepare the way. She wanted to live among the common folk, and did not want any special privileges. She would be sending along her own furnishings, but needed somewhere to live.
The people of the valley were simple folk, who valued their peaceful existence. Wary of the Princess, but willing to be accommodating, they found her a suitable cottage, surrounded by beautiful and well-tended gardens. On the day of her arrival, the villagers lined the streets with banners of welcome, and threw petals of roses to honour her.
The Princess was delighted, but reminded the citizens that she had come to live among them, and she expected to be treated as an equal.
It was a difficult transition for all to make. The villagers tried to pretend she was an ordinary young woman, but the Princess maintained many of her former habits. She refused to carry her purchases home from the market, and always expected everyone else to step aside when she was walking down the street. She never learned the art of making an appointment, assuming everyone would be available for her at her whim. And when the village got together for potlucks, she would command the menu. The problem escalated when the Princess began to commandeer all the best workers to tend her gardens and do her household chores. Work around the valley was being neglected in order to keep the Princess happy.
“This has to stop!” proclaimed the people during a meeting of the Valley’s folks. The Princess was not in attendance.
“We cannot deny the Princess,” the elders said. “Her father, do not forget, is our King.”
“But she is destroying the peace! People can’t get good service, and businesses have lost their most productive workers, and they’re not even getting paid. Everyone is upset! We just want our peace back.”
“Here! Here!”
“The Princess did say she wanted to be one of us. Maybe we should invite her to hear our complaints.”
The room went quiet. Everyone was afraid of upsetting the Princess, and ultimately, her father.
“Well, then. We shall just have to continue to make her happy, and fulfill her every wish.”
The room erupted in moans and yelling.
“Wait,” came a voice from the back. “I think I have a solution.”
It was the young woman, Sheboygan, now adviser to the King. “I will invite the Princess to come live with me.” Despite her new status, Sheboygan had maintained her home on the edge of the village.
The Princess accepted the invitation wholeheartedly. Truth was she had not found happiness amongst the common people, and she was becoming disillusioned.
“Leave your belongings,” Sheboygan advised. “You will not be needing them where we are going.”
On foot, the two women walked through the village to the foothills of the valley, where they found themselves besides a beautiful lake. “We will rest here for the night,” Sheboygan told the Princess.
“What? Outside? Without a bed?”
Sheboygan nodded and busied herself with collecting kindling to start a fire. “Make yourself useful.”
The Princess trailed after her, her gown getting caught on the underbrush, and smudges of dirt appearing on her skirts. Not used to physical labour, she felt herself becoming winded, as she blew at a piece of hair that had fallen from her normally well-coiffed hair.  Incensed, the Princess was about to complain, when Sheboygan ordered her to build the fire, while she went in search of food. “Or would you rather I start the fire, and you prepare dinner?” Sheboygan added, which shut the Princess up immediately.
Left alone to her own devices, the Princess was at a complete loss. Although many fires had been built for her, she never gave any thought to how it was done. Trying to recall what she had seen she piled the sticks and brush together, but could not imagine how to ignite them. She looked around for someone to command, and when it hit her she was totally alone, she sunk down into the dirt and cried. “Look at how useless I am!’
“Looking for something?” came a deep voice from behind her.
Not turning around, the Princess continued with her rant. “Yes! I need to start this fire, but I don’t know how. Will you do it for me good citizen?”
“I might, but what will you give me in return?”
“Anything,” the Princess wailed. Who could be so insolent? “Just light the fire!”
But her visitor wasn’t so easily persuaded.
“Will you promise to thank me kindly?”
“Yes, yes!” said the Princess, now fully exasperated.
“Will you promise to be my friend?’
Friend? The Princess had never had a friend, and the stranger’s offer struck a lonely chord in her. “I’d love to be your friend,” she said more softly.
“If you want to be my friend, then you must accept me just as I am, and not try to change me to fit your needs.”
“I will, I will.”
“Look at me then,” commanded the voice.
The Princess turned, and immediately forgot her despair, for in its place she felt a sudden rush of terror. There before her, in all its frightening glory, stood the dragon.
“Oh my!”
“Oh, yes,” said the dragon, for he was really a peace-loving dragon and had a good sense of humour.
“But you’re……..”
“A dragon. And you’re a Princess. A good match don’t you think.”
“But, but, don’t you…….”
“Eat Princesses? Maybe once upon a time, but nowadays I’m strictly vegetarian. About that deal?” He glanced at the pile of wood.
“Oh, yes.” The Princess stopped to consider her situation. “Friends, huh?
“Buddies for life!” The dragon raised his eyebrows in a comical way, and held out one of his talons. “Shake?”
“I already am.” The Princess made a joke despite herself, and they both laughed. She looked at her poor attempt at a fire. “Can you really ignite that?”
“In the wink of an eye,” said the dragon, and he did.
That night, the Princess, the dragon, and the woman of the lake sat around the campfire, eating nuts and berries and telling stories about their lives before they met one another. The Princess forgot all about her discomfort, and discovered what she had been missing all along: camaraderie.
The three slept beneath the stars and when the morning came, the Princess awoke with a new sense of self, and a pain in her back. “Can’t say that was the best night’s sleep,” she said, “but the fresh air and excellent company has done me a world of good.”
“Good,” Sheboygan said, ” Because you’ll be staying awhile.”
“I will?” The Princess was dubious. One night of inconvenience she could tolerate, but she was missing her bed.
“You have much to learn about being a commoner.”
“What do you mean? I live amongst them.”
“You live amongst them, but you continue to be a Princess. When was the last time you did anything for yourself?”
“Well…..” try as she might, the Princess couldn’t think of one thing.
“Exactly. You expect everyone to cater to you the same way they did in the castle. Servants in the castle wait on you because they are paid to do so; the people in the village are not.”
The Princess thought this over. Sheboygan was right. She had never thought about it this way. “You mean all those people who do work for me…….”
“Are not getting paid. Their families are suffering, and so are their employers who need them.”
“Oh my. How ungrateful they must think I am.”
“And there’s more.”
Sheboygan continued to tell the Princess about the townspeople’s concerns.
“I have led such a sheltered life,” the Princess realized. “I have only had to think of myself, and now I see that everything I do affects all the others. How can I ever redeem myself?”
“Oh, you will.” Sheboygan reassured her. “But first you must learn how to be useful. That is why you will live with the dragon and I until you have earned the right to be one of the common people.”
“Do you really think I can?” The Princess knew she’d had years of being pampered. She wasn’t sure she could adapt to anything else.
* * * * *
Days turned into months and the people of the Valley resumed their lives and forgot about the Princess. Businesses began to prosper, and people went about their lives, harmony restored.
Then one day, a lone figure entered the town. She was tall and thin, with the complexion of one who spent her days outdoors. Her long, dark hair flowed down her back, and her eyes shone with a kindness that drew others in. She stopped to greet the little children that ran to her, and smiled at the adults along the way. When an old woman stumbled on her path, the young woman took her arm to steady her. She unburdened a mother whose arms were full, and followed her home. She seemed to have time for everyone and a willingness to help out.
People were soon talking amongst themselves, wondering where this woman had come from and who she was. They followed her through the town to the local market, where she stopped at the grocer’s.
“I have no money,” the young woman explained to the man in charge. “But I would be grateful if you would let me work in exchange for food.”
The old man nodded, and handed her a broom. The young woman worked until the last customer was gone and all the shops were closed for the night.  Then she bundled up her earnings, and made her way silently through the streets to the little cottage with the well-tended gardens.
The Princess was finally home, and ready to take her place as part of the Valley.
(Image from Pinterest)
“All I want is to have my family around me.”
I was giving my father a therapeutic touch treatment to help ease his pain. His suffering was relentless in his last years.
“I guess they’re all too busy for their old Dad.”
“You didn’t exactly teach us how to be around you, Dad.” I didn’t want to be unkind, but he needed to hear the truth. When I was too young to understand about his ‘needs’, I thought we were an inconvenience to him. Mom would whisk us off to bed before he got home from work, so we’d be out of the way. Later, when his secret was out, we would have to call ahead to make sure it was okay to come home. When I moved out and became a parent, Dad would visit for ten or fifteen minutes before he had to leave.
“I suppose that’s true.” Were those tears in his eyes? “I lived a very selfish existence.”
“Yes, you did. You just have to be patient with us, and give us time to see that you have changed.”
He caught my hand in mid-motion and gave it a squeeze. “I always loved you, though.”
“I know that now, Dad. But there were many times when I didn’t. I could never compete with sports.” Sports were Dad’s excuse for everything: I can’t come see your play, because the game’s on; or: I’d love to spend time with my grandchildren, but this is the deciding match. Trouble is, there was always some sporting event on.
“Silly, isn’t it?”
“You missed out on a lot.”
“I know. I know.”
My father had changed. We never could have had this conversation years ago. He was too intimidating, and never open to criticism. Something in him had softened. Mom said he cried regularly over all the things he had done to us throughout the years. Still, I wasn’t totally convinced.
“It’s ironic how the tables have turned. It was always Mom who suffered with so much pain, and now it’s you.”
Isn’t that the truth, Dad’s face said. “I wasn’t very sympathetic either,” he confessed. “Serves me right, I guess.”
I didn’t say anything. Dad had never understood Mom’s suffering; he couldn’t tolerate weakness. Now he depended on oxygen to breathe, and didn’t go out much because his immune system was so compromised. His life was reduced to pain medication and ointments. Mom seldom left his side.
“I messed up, didn’t I Squeegie?” It was his nickname for me when I was little.
“You certainly had your trials, Dad. No one can imagine what it was like to be you. I guess you did the best you knew how.”
He squeezed my hand again. “You’re a good kid.”
“I wish I could take your pain away, Dad,” I responded.
In the back of my mind, I was remembering something my father had always preached:
You get out of life what you put into it.Â
Thor and I have dined in a high-end restaurant, and he has gone to pay the bill. I have chosen my food carefully to watch my intake, but still do not feel satisfied. I look around and spot a dessert counter, with many cakes, pies, and sweet buns. My husband is taking a while, and I am getting anxious. On an impulse, I lunge for the cinnamon buns at the front of the counter, reaching across the cakes and pies, with no regard for social propriety. I scoff the bun quickly, before anyone, especially my husband, can see me. I needn’t worry. He is nowhere in sight. The room we were dining in is in the basement of the building, with a walkout patio. Thor headed upstairs to the cashier’s desk. Embarrassed by my actions, I decide to follow him, but I cannot see him. I catch sight of him leaving by the front door. Has he forgotten me? I run to catch up with him and encounter two teenage boys, one of whom threatens to grab my breasts. Angry with Thor for leaving without me, I am enraged by this young boy’s brazen behaviour. “Do it and I’ll beat your head in,” I warn him. He makes the grab, and I retaliate by grasping one ear and twisting it, while simultaneously poking him in the eye with other. I knee him in the groin, and as he goes down, I slam his head against the wall. “That will teach you!” I conclude. I have caught my husband’s attention now, and we walk off together.
Restraint is obviously a theme in this dream: the ability to control my eating, and the need to control my anger.
Thor and I are in week four of Weight Watchers. He has very successfully been following the plan and losing weight. I am not faring as well. It is frustrating, to say the least.
Dining out is the base of our problems. I am vegetarian and Thor is meatatarian, and rather than cook two meals, it is just easier for us to dine out. With only 26 points allowance in my day, that is a difficult task. Last night, I had a veggie stir fry with the sauce on the side (8 points). Thor, on the other hand, had a seafood linguine with garlic bread. (He has 45 points in the day.) I went to bed hungry, while he had a midnight snack. As I often do when watching my food intake, I got cranky.
I am proud of my husband, don’t get me wrong. The changes he is making to his diet and daily routine are commendable. I do, however; feel a bit like the woman in my dream: left behind.
The two teenage boys in the dream are an interesting addition to this dilemma. When I was a teenager, with new, but fully developed breasts, a boy did grab my breast as he passed me on the sidewalk one day. I was so surprised that by the time I responded, he had fled. Thus began a series of sexual harassments that continued well into my twenties. In retrospect, it wasn’t until I had my third baby, and the weight stayed on that the unwanted advances stopped coming. This is an aha moment.
Could the anger that I feel when dieting be related to inappropriate attention? I clearly remember thinking, just yesterday, that the nice thing about being older is that you can be unattractive and get away with it.
I never felt attractive. One of four girls, I thought of myself as the dumpy one. I had reached full height in elementary school, and filled out way ahead of my older sisters, earning the nicknames ‘Moose’ and ‘Linebacker’. Whenever my sisters and I went anywhere together, everyone assumed I was the oldest, even though there were several years between us. While they received endless attention for their beauty, I was the goofy looking one. When I did bring boys home, I lost them once they caught sight of my siblings.
Despite my lack of self-esteem, or maybe because of it, I was always finding myself inappropriately propositioned. Fathers of children I babysat, employers, boys I went to school with, and later colleagues, as well as friends of my then husband. And, there was the rape. I was targeted out of a whole gathering of schoolgirls. I never understood it, but the more it happened, the angrier I became. Occasionally, I did retaliate physically, but mostly I internalized it. “Boys will be boys,” my mother would say. “It’s up to the woman to deter it.” Like my mother, I learned to be a victim.
Why would I want to lose weight only to make myself vulnerable again, must be the question running through my subconscious. No wonder I am cranky. Being overweight is not desirable, but neither is being desirable, literally!  Maybe, I need to have a little talk with myself, and remind my inner young woman that I am a lot older now, and have learned to ward off unwanted advances, and protect myself.
Who knew losing weight was this complicated.
A little restraint please!
My husband always tells me that I am failing my way through life with an A+.
It started when I returned to university to upgrade my degree. I would sweat over every assignment, proclaiming uncertainty about the expectations and certainty that my efforts would fall short. I would get the paper back with a mark in the nineties.
Despite my high marks, the insecurity persisted. When I graduated from the Faculty of Education, I didn’t even notice that it was with distinction until my stepdaughter asked me what that meant. Surprised, I responded: “It probably means that I was the oldest.”
The assumption behind all this angst is that I am not capable, and that every task is designed to trip me up. Of course, this is nonsense, and when I spell it out like that, my rational mind can see that it is. Yet, somewhere inside me is an insecurity that my success is phony; that I am a fraud.
I am working on moving towards an easier approach to life. I am trying to be consciously aware of how I complicate things with insecurity, and replace those thoughts with simplicity. I’m trying to take a step back before responding.  Reassessing a situation usually does reveal a simpler solution.
“All I need is to win the lottery,” Mae often proclaims.
“That’s not true,” I tell her.
“But if I had enough money, my problems would all be solved.”
“No. If you had lots of money, you would still be schizophrenic.”
She takes this in and nods solemnly. Then she laughs. “You’re so funny.”
“I am studying the dictionary, though. If I can get smarter then I’ll be better, don’t you think so?” (Mae finished nursing school with 96%).
“Schizophrenia has nothing to do with intelligence, it’s a chemical imbalance. You are smart already.”
The conversation is redundant. We will revisit it many times.
Mae, like many people, just wants an end to her suffering.
As a student of alternative health care techniques, and a caregiver, I too have looked for answers to the riddle of why suffering exists in the world. I have witnessed parents watching their infant die, and young children sitting at their dying mother’s bedside. I have met those whose disease has debilitated them to a point of total dependency; and others whose lives have changed in an instant due to an accident or violence. And I have met many, like Mae, who are born into suffering, with no hope for a cure. Void of answers, I am only left with more questions.
What I have come away with, though, is a sense of awe for the spirit that drives each and everyone of these people. In the midst of so much tragedy, I have encountered strength, willingness, compassion, and incredible resilience.
I don’t believe, as some do, that suffering is a choice; I believe it is inevitable.  And in some instances, I believe that suffering can open the doors for much discovery.
The King sat at his favourite lookout pondering his life. He rested his chin on the large gold ring that adorned his index finger and adjusted his ermine cloak around him, as a chill ran over him. An omen? he wondered. He sighed. What is the matter with me? My queen loves me…well, at least when she’s not preoccupied with all the other commitments she makes. Not many kings can say that. Â
He looked out over the vast valley below him, and couldn’t help but feel pride that all this belonged to him. A mist hung over the village, but it was early yet, and all that would soon dissipate and the sun would shine once again on his kingdom.
My son is off at University, bettering himself, his thoughts continued. What more could one expect from a future King, even if he is forty? I just wish he’d settle on something! The King sighed again. The chill came once more. Maybe I’m coming down with something. I’ll have to call the Royal Physician.
The mountains that surrounded his kingdom were now emerging from the fog, He loved these mountains. They were like old friends that never faltered: strong and bold. He could stare at their magnificence all day.
He continued to take inventory of his life. My daughter is as a princess should be: beautiful, articulate, kind; I just wish she would come down from that tower!  Admittedly, he’d locked her there years ago, after that awful incidence with that man – and a peasant, too – but she wasn’t getting any younger, and, well…… He sighed again, looking heavenwards.  So much for one man to manage, God. Â
At least my kingdom is at peace. The thought warmed him. He loved his people. He loved their industry, their loyalty, and above all, he loved it when they were all content. It had been over thirteen years since they’d suffered any strife. He didn’t want to think about those times. Four years the battle had gone on, and while they won, they had also lost so much. Ah, well, such is the price of war. Â
The King shifted his position. He was feeling it again: the restlessness. He hated this sensation; it made him feel as if he wasn’t in control, and he couldn’t abide that. Two weeks ago he’d sent the Royal Page out on a mission to find something to cure this abomination, but the boy had not yet returned. Blasted child! the King thought to himself. I should have sent a man. Or maybe a woman. But who else could be trusted?
Wrestling with his thoughts, the King failed to notice that the sky had cleared and the valley was now in full view. All was not calm. There, in the middle of town, stood an eight-foot-tall dragon, breathing fire, and lashing his long spiky tail in a wide, destructive arc. People were fleeing in droves, their cries filling the air.
At first, the King thought it was the cry of the morning birds he was hearing, but soon he recognized the sounds of panic. Alert once more, he spotted the source of the problem. What the…..? “Guards!” The King was up and running.
A call went out in the castle, and all available knights mounted their steeds in a race to save the kingdom.
But this was no ordinary dragon. He moved with the agility of a trained martial artist: eluding the knights lances, and scorching them as they passed. Within the hour the streets had cleared, and no one dared approach the beast. It looked as if the town was lost.
Then one lone figure stepped out from the shadows. Bare legs and arms revealed the slender figure of a young woman. Clad only in a deerskin tunic, her hair pulled back in tidy braids, she held what looked like a tree branch at her side. She approached the dragon from the side, and all gasped as the dragon caught the young woman in his peripheral vision. Ten feet away, she stopped and nodded slightly to the beast, holding her hand up, palm towards him, as if in greeting.
The beast groaned, but seemed to settle.
The woman spoke a few words that surely only the dragon could hear. The dragon let out a howl, and the crowd screamed in response, but the young woman remained calm, gesturing to the crowd to stay back and be quiet.
She took another step. The dragon shifted its weight, angling slightly towards her. The crowd held its breath. The King too.
Then the young woman did an extraordinary thing. She sat down.
The dragon sat down.
She stretched out her legs, and leaned back on her arms, in a state of repose.
The dragon stretched his paws out before him, and laid his head on the ground before him.
The young woman then laid herself down and gently rolled over, closing in on the dragon. To the amazement of all gathered there the dragon didn’t flinch, in fact, some would say later that the dragon itself, moved towards her, but the King was so excited by what was happening, that he didn’t see any of that. He’d run off to the stables to get himself a horse. He needed to meet this dragon-tamer, and now!
By the time the King caught up them, the young woman had mounted the back of the dragon, who was contentedly munching on the tree branch.
“Stop!”
The dragon and his rider blinked in unison, turning their heads to find the source of this command. The woman whispered to the dragon and he stopped eating. She stayed where she was.
“Your Majesty,” she bowed her head out of courtesy.
“What is going on here?”
“I am Sheboygan, and this is my friend, the dragon.”
“Your friend! Did you cause this destruction?”
“Oh no!” protested Sheboygan. “I have no desire to destroy your kingdom. I noticed that the dragon was missing and I came in search of him. That is all.”
“Explain yourself, young lady.”
“I am Sheboygan,” she repeated with authority. “I live beyond the woods, near the body of water over there.” She pointed to the west. “The dragon is my neighbour. I know him to be peaceful and loving, but when I saw he was gone, I knew something must be wrong. So I came in search of him.”
“If this dragon is peaceful, why did he just threaten my village?”
“He didn’t mean to, your Majesty. He was only looking for food.”
“For food? What does he eat, children?”
“No, not at all. He is vegetarian. He eats only the fruit and berries of a particular tree. But sometime in the night, all those trees were cut down. He must have been awfully hungry to show such anger here.”
The King started to say something, but found he was at a loss for words. A vegetarian fire-breathing dragon? Who’d ever heard of such a thing? Was he dreaming?!
“I don’t understand. Who would cut down those alleged trees, and why?”
“You’ll have to look to your own people, King, to answer that question.” And with that, dragon and rider ambled off.
The King, who didn’t like it when things happened without his knowing, called an immediate meeting of his advisors. While the men were assembling, the King spotted his Page sneaking in through the a side door.
“Halt, there! I’ve been looking for you.”
The Page looked exhausted. His hair was all array, and bits of twigs and leaves clung to his tunic.
“What is this?” the King demanded, pointing to a saw the young man was holding. “What have you been up to? Cutting down trees, perhaps?”
The young man couldn’t tell a lie, especially to his ruler.  Holding up the saw, he proclaimed: ” I was finding a cure for your restlessness, you Majesty.”
“Yes, yes I’d say!” remarked the King. “Effectively so, and you almost caused me my kingdom.”
“Oh, no, Sire! The dragon was harmless! I swear!”
“Well, you certainly shook things up young man. Now tell me, who was the young woman that saved the day?”
“Sheboygan? She’s a friend of mine, Sire. A very worthy young woman.”
“Worthy, indeed. In fact, I’d say the two of you are just what this kingdom needs. Clean yourself boy, and get some sleep. I’ll be expecting yourself and your young maiden friend at supper this evening. Now go!”
With that the King spun on his heels and strode into the council chambers where his advisers were gathered. “Gentleman,” the King began, “today marks a time of change, and as with all change, there must be death before there can be rebirth. While we have known peace in this kingdom for some time, we have also grown stagnant, and that can be a problem unto itself. Today, in a time of real need, no one was able to rise to the occasion and defend this kingdom but one lone young woman. None of our forces, and certainly none of you, were of help. It took the energy and willingness of the young to make a difference.”
“But, your Majesty, the dragon was a formidable foe, even our best knights could not defeat him. What were we to do?”
“The dragon appeared to be an insurmountable force, but you, like many of us, were fooled by appearances. I pay you to see beyond appearances. Your job is tell me what is really happening. I have not felt at peace for sometime, and I now realize why : I have been depending on men whose heads are in the sand, men who are not informed enough to give me the right advice when I need it.”
“But, your Grace…..”
“But nothing. This dragon has lived on the fringe of our community for some time, yet none of you took the time to find about it. A young woman did what none of you, and a legion of men could not!” The King’s anger was rising, the veins in his neck popping as he raged. “From this moment, you are all demoted! I’ll let you know your new positions, when I’ve had time to think.”
Heads hung in shame throughout the room. The men daren’t look at one another, knowing full well that what the King had said was true. They had been lax. They had wiled away their days with trivial activities, sated with complacency. The King was right; they deserved to be disciplined.
“In the meantime, I have found myself two new advisers, and we shall be welcoming them at a feast tonight. Busy yourself with the preparation, and make it fitting for a young woman and man of their nature. Have the Royal Guest rooms prepared, and make arrangements for the young woman to be properly attired.” Then on second thought, the King added: “No, scratch that. Let her come in the style she chooses. Find appropriate entertainment. Now be on your way. I must advise the Queen.”
Solemnly, the group of men began to disperse. They were not happy with the outcome, but they knew their King to be just. In time; all in good time, they told themselves.
“Oh, and would someone please remind the Princess that the door to the Tower is no longer locked, and suggest that she might want to join us.”
* * * * * *
Part II – “The Valley”
Sue Bender, in her book Everyday Sacred, uses the symbolism of the bowl to depict the spiritual life.  She relates this image to Tibetan monks, who as part of their training must survive with begging bowls: they must ask for what they need and make use of what they are given before they can beg for more.
Everyday Sacred literally fell off the shelf and into my arms one day, as I was reaching for a novel in the library. It could not have appeared at a better time. I was mesmerized by Bender’s words, and loved her analogy. I could relate to the idea that we are bowls, or vessels for Spirit, and that whatever comes into our life must be consumed and processed before we can ask for more. In this way, we make life sacred.
Shortly after discovering the works of Sue Bender, my marriage ended, leaving me shattered and scarred. I prayed for a sign that everything would be okay. Signs and omens surrounded me, and I felt comforted. Then I got my new phone number. I was disappointed that it had no obvious pattern to remember: 2695 were the last digits. One day as I sat musing over how I was going to remember the number, I had a thought: what did the numbers spell?- b-o-w-l. Bowl!
Life had served me up a full helping of misery, and it would be a long time before I could empty it, but I came to understand that emptiness is what I needed before anything good could come my way. As long as I hung on to anger, grief, or resentment, my bowl did not have room for anything else. Empty was the goal.
(Image:Â www.hungrysouls.org)
“Mom, I don’t know how to say this, but…” I was tucking my ten-year-old son into bed.
“Go ahead.”
“Well, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you know how if there is a sale on at Eaton’s, you want to get there early.”
“Yes?” I wasn’t sure where this conversation was going.
“You want to get there early because the best stuff gets picked over first, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“Well, no offense, but you’re not getting any younger.”
“What are you on about?”
“Maybe you need to get out there before all the good ones are picked over.”
“Are you saying I should start dating?”
He nodded solemnly.
“Well, I’ll give it some thought.” It had been over six months since his father and I had separated, and dating was the furthest thing from my mind, but there was wisdom in those words. Still shattered from the unexpected end of a seventeen year relationship, I coped by going to bed early every night, and staying away from people. My son was probably right – avoiding life was not the answer – life was passing me by.
‘Obi-Wan Kenobe’, one of my friends called my son. From an early age, he has had an uncanny wisdom, well beyond his years.  He’s my soul’s guardian.
(Image from:Â www.kidscreativechaos.com)
A dark shadowy figure passed the door of my office. It moved on all fours and had a very feline shape, like a panther. I followed it down the hallway and into the empty room at the end.
I knew this was no earthly creature, but I did not expect the force that hit me as I entered the room. Doubled over in pain, my chest was drenched in sweat, and my head was reeling.  A foul odor filled the room, rendering me nauseous. I stumbled to my knees, then collapsed on the floor.
“Mom? I saw something that looked like a cat come this way.” Marie had been working reception in the foyer. I heard her just outside.
“Stay away!” the words came out gurgled, as if I was choking.
“Are you okay, Mom?”
“No! Something’s attacking me! Stay out!”
“What should I do?” A good question, and I was wondering the very same thing, but the violence of the attack overwhelmed me and I couldn’t think straight.
“I just feel so sick! Get a bucket.”
I’d never encountered anything like this before. I was certain it was some type of demon, but what, I didn’t know.
“Throw the pail in here, but don’t come in,” I advised my daughter.
“Mom, I’m scared.”
“Don’t be! Whatever this is likes fear. I’ll be okay.” I only wish I felt as certain as I sounded. I heaved into the bucket as the pain ripples through my midsection. I felt like I was on fire. What was this thing?
I tried to focus on my breathing and center myself, but the waves of nausea and the sheer physical pain made it almost impossible. I was determined not to let this thing get the best of me.
Night was coming on and the only other person still in the building would be leaving soon. I didn’t know how I was going to drive home.
“Get Robert,” I called to my daughter.
I could see that Robert was alarmed when he saw me.
“I need to get home, Robert. But I can’t get there in this state. Can you take us?”
I don’t remember the ride home, but I do remember Robert’s helpless look as he left us in the driveway. Inside, I left Marie to explain to her father as I closed myself away in the bedroom to battle it out. I steeled myself for the fight, but it seemed the more determined I was the greater the force that hit me. I wanted to unleash my growing rage on this unseen foe, but somehow I knew that would only add fuel to its fury. The more I fought, the greater the suffering. I was growing weaker by the minute.
Then I remembered a book I had read in my last year at university:  The Man Who Wrestled with God, by John Sandford It was recommended by my religious studies teacher, and tells the story of Jacob, who is about to ascend the ladder to Heaven when he is tackled by an unseen opponent. Jacob fights and fights, until he realizes that he is wrestling with God, and that the only thing to do is surrender.
I knew my only hope was in giving over to God. I’d had a dream once, where God picked me up and cradled me in His hands. I needed that now, so as I centered myself, I imagined that my mattress was the hand of God, and that with each breath I surrendered deeper and deeper into the hands of a loving force. I imagined myself falling through the blackness that had threatened me, and landing in a place of comfort and love.
Love yourself, were the words I heard to guide me. Love yourself just as you are.Â
“I can’t,” I wanted to cry out, but I knew the message was right. I didn’t love myself. The nausea washed over me again. “Okay, okay,” I thought. “I love myself. I love myself.” And suddenly, I realized that I could love myself. That if I could see me through God’s eyes, I wouldn’t be so critical, but would behold myself with forgiveness and acceptance. So for the first time in forever, I felt okay with me. And as this new sensation dawned, the darkness receded, and with it the pain and vomiting.
The battle was over.
I had found calm in the eye of the storm, and it saved me.
One Woman's Quest 