Good Friday, 4/10/2010 during Pandemic
Me: Today is a day of remembering suffering. Years from now, will I remember the suffering I feel today?
She: That depends on you. You might still be suffering.
Me: I am sick of this. How long will it last? Why can’t it end now?
She: Because you are not yet ready. Because you think that if the virus stops infecting people that the suffering will end. You believe if the people stop dying from this, you will be happy. But you won’t.
Me: What? Why?
She: Because you love to suffer. You love to be angry. You love to share your righteous fury. So many people are wrong and you are right. These beliefs are what make you suffer, not the virus or the racial bias or the sexual and domestic violence or the destruction of the earth. If you didn’t care about everything so much you wouldn’t suffer. So suffer, dear one, suffer.
Me: Now I’m not sure if suffering is good or bad.
She: I made rainbows and I made viruses. I created birth and I created death. I did not make good things and bad things. Man designates them that way. And man does not agree on what is good or what is bad.
Me: Can you give me an example, please?
She: Of course! Someone who takes another’s life is bad, right? (uh huh) Unless he is a soldier in your country killing a terrorist, right? (Yup) But what if it is a soldier protecting his land from a soldier in your country who is about to send bombs to destroy a home where it is expected that civilians are there to protect their leader? Gets confusing, right?
Me: Oh, I see… So what am I supposed to do? Stop caring?
She: No, absolutely not. You are supposed to step out of the equation. Stop using the logic you were born with, because it is biased. Look at each problem that causes you suffering and see that it is. That’s all. It exists. No value judgement. No good. No bad.
Me: But what if my mom gets sick and dies from the virus?
She: All who are born will die. So many of you suffer about the inevitable. Death exists. I promise, no matter what, she will die. Knowing that, however, you can spend each moment you have with her living more fully, loving her more fully. Let go of the fear. She will die someday and so will you.
Me: I need time to process this.
She: Of course you do. It takes a lifetime to process a lifetime. In the meantime, I have a special poem for you by St. Catherine of Siena, titled Until Your Own Dawn.
Daybreak:
Everything in this world is a luminous divine dream
I have spun.
I did not know life was a fabric woven by my soul.
Any form that can appear to you – should I confess this –
It is something I made.
All roots nurse
From
Me.
God’s art is mine. I did not want His divine talent.
It simply grew in my heart from
The way I
Loved.
Existence is as a young child moving through
A lane at night;
It wanted to
Hold my
Hand.
Here, dear earth, hold me,
Until your own
Dawn.
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