Making Space To Hold The Pain: Midwives For The Birth Of Healing.
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“The most saintly souls are often those who have never distinguished themselves as authors or allowed any major accomplishments of theirs to become the topic of the world’s conversation. No, they are usually those who have led a quiet inner life of holiness, having carried their sweet bouquets unseen, like a fresh lily in a secluded valley on the edge of a crystal stream.” ~ Sir Kenelm Digby
I never belonged in the spotlight. This, at least, I know about myself. Fluorescent lights drain my energy, and just scream pretense. I cannot stand their concocted brightness. No, my place was always in the stillness, in the hushed hues of soft light, away from the crowd.
My place is solitude, among the lonely dandelions that speak my language. This is where I come to meet myself, again and again, and to remember what I love.
If I am to be known for anything, let me be known for the long lost art of contemplation — sitting in reverie for a while with a thing or thought. There is grace in finding the extraordinary hidden within the ordinary and minute.
Isn’t that a writer’s job, after all? To ponder something fervently until one arrives at its essence? To distill the core of human experience into one phrase, one sentence?
Oh, but to be still in a world that is constantly talking, spouting words before they have been first held with intention! A world in a verbal war against itself, pronouncing the death of things before they’ve ever had a chance to blossom.
How does one find quiet when the demands of daily life are incessantly knocking at the door?
My kind was not made to shout to be heard in a place such as this. We come bearing a different kind of amplifier — one that transmits the discourse of the spirit. We are soul-translators, deciphering the lexicon of the inner world for those who seek it.
We yearn for stillness for this reason — to listen to what lies within. To find the treasures of our true nature, beyond anything the world tells us about ourselves, and then bring those to light for others to see.
It is in the undisturbed waters of our being where we see reflected back to us the Self we’ve been searching for.
We have forgotten how to wait, patiently, for wisdom to unfurl us. Speed has never been the way nature accomplishes its feats of beauty. Water a plant as much as you want, but it will still grow in its own time.
What have we lost in the rushing, in the haste, I wonder? Has the gain been worth the cost?
Oh, but to slow down in a world that is pushing us to go faster, impelling us to run one race after another! Where are we trying to get to, anyway? Will we ever arrive?
There is a time for running, no doubt, for dealing with crises. There is a place for passionate speeches and thunderous applause that resounds across the stage. The joy of family life is full of noise — laughter, music, intimate conversations, and barking dogs.
I just don’t want us to lose the gift of silence, or neglect the people who tenderly nurture it. I don’t want us to get lost in the noise, unable to hear ourselves anymore. I don’t want us to run so fast that we crash into walls we ignored because we were too busy.
I want us to recognize each other’s gifts, to know we need the speakers and the listeners, the doers and the reflectors, the leaders and the followers, the ones who take up space and the ones who hold that space.
We need people who crave action and engagement, and people who crave solitude and contemplation. There is honor and dignity in both. There is so much we can learn from each other.
So if I tell you to forgive me for only having words to offer you in times of grief, if I only have a poem to give you to soothe your wounded heart, tell me that’s enough.
Tell me you know that my words have come from the deepest place inside of me, with intention and love and an undying hope in the light that shines through the darkest places. When I give you these words, know that they have been held with the tenderness of a newborn baby.
Know that they come from a silence that nourished them into being.
When I spend those hours contemplating, away from the crowd, know this — I am spiritually sewing the garment for a new earth, a new consciousness for humanity made of the fabric that holds us all together.
My kind is pondering the very tapestry of union among our species into existence. This is needed now more than ever. My kind is making space to hold the pain of our fellow human beings, serving as midwives for the birth of healing.
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Anokina Shahbaz believes that each of us is here for a reason, and it has something to do with realizing and manifesting our most authentic self. Follower of the teachings of Marianne Williamson and Eckhart Tolle, Anokina is a devoted student of the sacred art of self-discovery and creative expression. She is also a kindness advocate, believer in miracles and soul mates, dark-chocolate-lover, journal-collector, and purpose-seeker. She probably couldn’t live without journaling, Yoga, Celine Dion, or the smell of lavender. She is trying to find a way to get paid for finding meaning in the mundane. At the end of the day, she’s just an introvert trying to live in an extrovert world. Anokina writes about creativity, spirituality, chasing the muse, and actualizing our highest self. You can find her musing on her blog, contributing to Elephant Journal, or tweeting inspiration on Twitter and Instagram.
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