THUNDER, THWARTING AND THREADBARE

The sky is grey and the thunder has begun. Perhaps the wet season will come early. I hope it does if only to wash the thick layer of dust off the leaves and restore some brightness to the world.

There is an immanent feeling to the season, as if everything is waiting for the rains, which, I suppose in a way is right. At ever level there is an expectation that change will come; that a cleansing and renewal will begin.

I like the symbolism of that both personally and collectively. The past few months have been challenging on a variety of fronts for both of us. Work challenges for Greg which of course involve me and personal challenges for both of us. If ever we thought our lesson was not to practise remembering that 'certainty is an illusion,' we are being reminded now.

I wonder sometimes if it is easier to process challenges if one stays in one place and has a support network of friends and family on hand. I suspect it is. But then does one learn as much? I have to say that because I have to find something positive in my experience of being so often, so alone, and having to work through difficult things - material and immaterial.

On the plus side, I think living in the Third World is a constant reminder that one has inconveniences, not problems. And no issue with anyone, no matter how painful, is beyond resolution. Perhaps also distance makes things harder as well as easier. If you are separated from a situation which is difficult it is easier to ground one's self and to find a place of balance, but it is also more difficult to work on the issues because of the separation of time and distance.

It is funny really, although funny is probably the wrong word, but in truth, the most painful place is where the greatest work is done and yet most of us do everything we can to remove ourselves from it. To distance ourselves from what hurts. Perhaps like all things the lesson is moderation. A bit of distance but not too much; a bit of exposure but not too much.

As if life could be organised in such a way. Which takes me back to the other illusion, that we control our life. That we plan our life. It is of course life which plans us and the only control we have, and that is varying in everyone, is what we do with what happens to us. Some people have the capacity to learn more than others; some to learn faster and all of us learn different things in different ways.

I wonder too if we feel greater sadness as we grow older. Possibly because feelings are always more than skin deep and are sourced in every experience we have had so the older one is, the more layers of experience to plumb. or perhaps as one gets older the greater is the need to heal what remains unresolved and so when life pushes on a place of pain it hurts more.

For now I wait for the rains to fall both literally and metaphorically; washing away the layer of dust which chokes and hides. I think that is what I like about the seasons - that ability for things to change in an instant - for something new to be created from the old.

In essence it is about honouring each part of the process as a moment of Now - perfect in itself. I wish I believed that. So many things are easy to say and hard to live. Cleansing rain and cleansing tears surely serve the same purpose.