Dear Hearts,
Something new is happening. Emotions which seemed to be the effect of every wrongness and ego ignorant persuasion, now speak of true forgiveness. Growth spurts through holy instants, glimpse the more of me. I have moved on, moved in, releasing unhealthy temperaments, allowing a sentient wisdom.
Fatal seductions from the past and its moods are more often recognized as stale thoughts passing through, prompting remembrance of all that waits to be discovered beyond, beneath, within truth.
Tears have become sacred rivers sourced in an upstream Grace. They witness to the lovemaking going on behind these eyes, the inter-intra relationship of human and divine. They are witness to beautiful intimacies.
Today, I write of a new cause for tears and a new view through a glistening drop in the unified eye of beholder and Beloved. I hope you will read it and weep.
Ever Love,
MaryBeth
THE BEAUTIFUL INTIMACY OF TEARS
Growth spurts bring abundant tears and sleepless nights to babies and Mama’s alike. I am the babe of Divine Mother, conceived in the Womb of Supreme Love, incarnate on earth through the birth of Jesus. I am Christ through self, appearing. My soul has outgrown the manger of my birth. Moving between the split of heartbreak, I have survived my own wailing psyche. It is a season of innermost growth.
The old heart attack, that fissured organ cracking, that jagged edge where I bled raw, was a door. Who knew that leaping through the threshold of that wound would bring quantum healing, revealing, a way of becoming more succinctly all I am created to be? Who knew that I would find “in there” an abode called wonder? Who could possibly understand Who lived with me within? Was it Counciler? Mighty One? Oh no, those thoughts are far too dim for the light and the hope in the house of the heart broke open.
There is no explanation for this leap into pain, few ideas to offer those who risk it. The irony is that fragmentation of that tender epicenter makes one whole. Now I live in a mansion of interior growth, sweetened tears and epiphanies. But unlike any movements or understandings of the past, there is no development of person in this place. The person is disappearing into awareness.
This growth, these tears, these rooms inside the heart of the shattered are something entirely new, a breakthrough, a departure from the chaparral of inner forest into a vitally clear view. This vista is universal.
It is this view, from my room in God’s mansion (once a broken heart,) that draws wet lids to quiver now. There is a change of purview, forsaking the vertigo of worldly perceptions. Tears are no longer soaked with the bitter juice of need, nor unhealthy attachment, not shed from mistaken, attacking belief. These tears drop through the new. They are mine, but more so, they are shed by God.
As I deepen and know constancy in Christ, I become more sentient, richer in experiencing life. Tears appear when I feel the touch or Presence of Jesus, (Jess). Tears appear when a fullness too great to bear wells up, brimming over closed lids. Tears drop with knees in gratitude too deep for words. Tears glide gently over a quiet face when MaryBeth is gone from that place, magnetized by whispers of the Madonna.
Tears of sorrow, tears of joy are not as simple they used to be, not one namable sensitivity is expressed but each the outpour of unnamable, indefinable, inner intimacy, the alchemy of Jess, living and breathing me. His cascade in thick, compassionate rivulets is Nature’s oasis of love.
Tears express revelation, which cannot pour forth in these words. We do better to give up suppression of every feared feeling as they crystalize behind our eyes into hard and heavy rocks. Let the well run over, for my dewy eyes are much better than I at expressing the wonders of the One, even if I write a hundred thousand poems.
Oh, I see we must ask the human question. Are there no tears for the weary, the world, the heaving elements, the arrow hunted deer? Is there no weeping for a world beset by fear?
There are no tears for the cause of fear, for it is illusion itself that causes the pelting storm. But healing, the blessed immaculate solution, the sweet succor of truth unveiling its face, this causes a summer down pour.
It might be said, the beautiful intimacy of tears is a consequence of choosing Love, of leaping into the heart’s crevasse, discovering a well of unity.
Ever Love,
MaryBeth