Tag: Personal Growth

by Jane Tawel

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In Light and Dark, Out of the Garden, and On The Path

By Jane Tawel, October 10, 2023

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And waking up to birds in the Garden,

heard not seen.

My mouth, dry as fallen leaves,

thoughts crumbling into dust not swept away, but hoarded

A heart as dry as leaves from an ancient but desiccated Book,

falling apart.

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My chest hurts,

fluttering helplessly,

like a trapped bird in a cage,

throbbing like a song trapped in a tunnel,

too faint to hear, yet pounding in my ears.

I struggle out of night’s tight bonds,

and the prison of sweaty anxiety-tangled sheets.

Unsolved puzzles of otherness

causing night-fears to cling to my morning,

and morning is already imprisoned

with jello-bars;

thoughts of yesterday, flabby and gel-like,

clinging to today like suckers on a beached rowboat.

My oars went floating out

on the Tide toward Tomorrow.

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Ah, me!

If only I could reach through the pain

with outstretched arms, not strong,

but lengthening in supplication,

away from the unformed center of myself.

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Oh, My God, where is the salve

of Your nothingness,

the salve of forgiveness and delight?

*

Salvation is a funny thing,

a flimsy hope,

a solid rock.

The salve of my salvation stings,

and pain heals more than blissful wishes do.

The scabs cover over the relief of treasured addictions,

and for a brief moment,

I rise and float,

like a feather on an unseen wind,

like a small twig floating on a wave.

Nothingness is experienced,

as the unbearable lightness of being.

And my some-thing-ness,

my some-one-ness,

is adrift and moor-less.

*

The path never widens,

but as I scrimp on forging ahead,

I forage for food

to sustain my courage,

The Way seems clearer if not cleaner.

The brambles’ marks toughen my skin,

and heal over to make my feelings

calloused in new strength and some hope.

The fears reside nearer my front door,

but I learn (sometimes)

how to brush the anxious thoughts out,

like sticky cobwebs,

shooed away for whole moments at a time,

banished out of the home of my heart.

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Shall I create salvation for myself,

and all within the place I dwell?

Shall I embrace my shadow self,

my night-self,

my dark soul?

And finding within the darkness, will I know

the freedom of not seeing but yet,

still blindly groping forward?

Oh, to walk in green valleys!

Oh, to rest by living streams!

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There is a light ahead,

shimmering just outside the Garden,

and though it may waver recklessly

leading like a foolish and small fire-fly,

flitting along My Path,

I will seek The Light,

and I imagine I will find it not out there,

but within myself.

And when I can not see it,

I will make a friend of the Dark.

And wait for the dawn.

*

I reach for signs along my way,

and I will trust in the pain,

brushing up against it,

my fingers touching

the surface of my pain like rough bark,

scraping my knees on sharp sharded stones

strewn loosely in the road,

scratching my face as I plow through thick thorny places,

secret places of despair,

and fear and the grief that blossoms,

Iike a rose in the world’s heart.

*

As if…

As if…..

As if I keep walking,

through nights of bruising thoughts,

Salvation may come in the morning.

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The path never widens,

but as I forage for food to sustain my courage,

The Way reveals the place of wholeness

abiding in mystery.

*

Peace passes through the dark

and beyond understanding.

And I let my spirit float,

out and away from the shallows of Life,

floating into deeper waters, and

trusting in The Sea

which holds all waves.

Even mine.

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“I lift my eyes up,

to the mountains,

where does my help come from?

My help comes from You

Maker of All Being,

Maker of Light and of Dark,

Creator of All Life.

My feet will not slip

as I walk in The Way.

I will be guarded over

in the dark,

and while I sleep.

There is shade in the sun,

and the moon at night.

There are guardians all around me,

and no harm will come to my life,

I am safe, now and forever more.”**

I do not know but trust — 

I do not know,

but keep seeking darkness in Mystery,

light in Hope,

peace in suffering,

and joy in the journey.

I choose to trust.

I am not alone.

You are not alone.

We are not alone.

© Jane Tawel, 2023

**My paraphrase of Psalm 121