I heard a voice inside of me say I needed to
take care of myself today,
I needed to go inside for a bit and be with me.
Caring for myself is not an indulgence,
it is a matter of survival.
Knowing how to be alone is central both to the
art of loving and the art of giving.
Self care is simply good stewardship,
the same kind of stewardship I try to
practice with my dogs,
and with the people close to me.
Thomas Merton wrote that anytime
I listen to my true self,
and give it the care it requires,
I do it not only for myself, but for the many others
whose lives I might touch.
I have no apologies to make for myself for doing this,
no explanations or rationalizations.
I turn away from guilt as the useless poison
I know it to be.
I think sometimes of this:
I have never heard of a bird
or a donkey or a dog
or the Sun or the Moon or a Pansy,
ever say to God, "I am sorry."
Today was for me, and for Maria.
Today I heard a spiritual calling.
My many very human needs for affection,
attention and consolation
had become confused,
disconnected from my soul,
from my weary and sometimes fragile inner self.
I have the strength to turn inward, not outward.
Tonight, for just a few hours,
I will turn into an extraordinary light,
and make a thousand flowers
go mad with love and compassion,
and find my peacefulness.
Today, I had to move from crying outward to crying inward,
to the place where I can let myself be held – by my angels,
by the stars, by God, by love,
by whatever force or spirit wishes to hold and comfort me
for a few hours or for one night.
No one person can fulfill my needs or heal my wounds
or staunch my exhaustion,
I let myself go to be held by the community of faith and hope,
it will hold me and permit me to experience the truth:
beyond my anguish, there are human hands
that will hold me and show me faithful love.