It is amazing how much “too much” and “never enough” so often entwine in our hearts… there are as many iterations of this as there are thoughts in our heads, sorrows on our shoulders, people in the world. For me, it is most often that I can never be enough to make up for all the ways I am too much- too strange, too sad, too alien, too broken, too needy, too brash, too smart(assed) for my own good. It has not been entirely unusual for the world to remind me that I might need taking down a peg or two.
For me, it is hard to believe that there is enough compassion in the world to encompass all I am, when I already know that there is not enough compassion within me to do the same. Or, at least, that in knowing all of myself, I am not able to find it in me to offer that welcome, not today, not right now. There are also parts of me that have been able to do so, that I feel holding me, that, on those days when I can sink into stillness long enough to turn and face myself, wrap me in tenderness.
I don’t have any special wisdom to offer, no healing balm except perhaps that which comes from knowing we are not alone in our darkness. I will offer this prayer for you, night after night, bathed in the light of my own hope, wavering as it may sometimes be: