Wounds of the Soul

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The past and its memories can be harsh. Especially for those who have experienced great hurt. I call such hurts wounds of the soul.

After the injury ceases its pain, after the scars heal, the wounds of the soul remain. They remain forever as a reminder, not only that I was hurt, but also that I survived. I have learned not to be enslaved by my wounds. They remind me that I was stronger than the thing or the person that tried to hurt me.

How does one heal the wounds of the soul? You don’t heal them. They never go away. They remain on the soul as badges of courage and reminders of strength and perseverance. They happened in the past, of course, but they make me more mindful of the glories of the present moment.

“When we are mindful, deeply in touch with the present moment, our understanding of what is going on deepens, and we begin to be filled with acceptance, joy, peace and love.”

– Thich Nhat Hanh
In spite of the soul’s wounds, I am filled with acceptance, joy, peace and love. There is a part of me that is grateful for the wounds that stay with me. They make me stronger. They make me resilient. They make me wise enough to not be hurt again. I want to always remember that the soul is able to endure the wounds. The soul’s memories will always mark the time of the hurt and hold it for safekeeping. The soul will bear its wounds with grace, thankful that they make us the person we are meant to be.

I often ask myself the question “Who would you be without the wounds?”

Stronger than My Sadness

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I am stronger than my sadness. Because of that, I don’t dread sadness so much anymore. I just take it in as a part of living. Some days for me are just sad days. Yesterday was one of those days – Mother’s Day – and I spent it without my child or my grandchildren. So I figure it was most appropriate to feel sad.

I have learned, though, that sadness passes and brighter days are just around the next bend. That reality keeps me going and reminds me that I can take whatever comes in this thing we call life. Life brings all sorts of emotions, happiness, joy, pride, elation, peace, excitement, and yes, sadness too.

I love the poetry of Khalil Gibran who wrote “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

 

And when I am sorrowful, I always return to Gibran’s writing on joy and sorrow:

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being,the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

And that’s that! I am stronger than my sadness.

Love Has the Last Word

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My last blog post spoke of being unable to escape adversity. And it is true that we will not get through this life without adversity, no matter how hard we try. The path we walk is steep and winding, leading us forward through all sorts of dangers, toils and snares. The road can be frightening. It can be challenging.

We navigate in a world that is sometimes filled with terror and hate. But the best news for us comes from Bishop Steven Charleston.

The final word to our lives will not be terror or hate. Even if they seem overwhelming now, they will not define us or control us. Other forces are at work, deep forces that move silently among us, drawing us closer against the storm. Whenever human beings face disaster together, whatever that peril may be, our ancient instinct for compassion rises up to unite us in common cause. We do not shatter beneath the blows. We only grow stronger. No, fear and hate will never have the last word. Love will.

There is no better news than that!

I love the hymn Amazing Love. How Can it Be. The words of the fourth stanza give me new and fresh hope.

Long my imprisoned spirit lay
Fast bound in sin and nature’s night;
Thine eye diffused a quickening ray,
I woke, the dungeon flamed with light;
My chains fell off, my heart was free,
I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

Amazing love, how can it be that Thou, my God, should die for me?

Love has the last word.