My spirit aches. My heart breaks.
That’s how it feels when I find myself in a situation where I don’t know what to do.
It’s a situation in which I have been for the past two months. The details don’t matter. The lesson this situation is here to teach could have been disguised as any other problem. But at this junction in my life it chose to take on the identity of people for whom I care for deeply, making it particularly difficult to keep myself distracted and pretending everything is OK.
Teenage angst didn’t end at 19 and it was a walk in the park compared to this.
I want to do something to make the pain go away, but that elusive “something” that will make things go back to the way they were supposed to be keeps being well, elusive.
Maybe things aren’t supposed to go back. Maybe they are meant to be better.
But I can’t just sit around and wait for them to get better on their own, can I? I have to take action!
Do, do, do. It’s human nature to want to do something to make pain go away.
But the more I think about it, the more I talk about it, the more I read about it, the more it hurts.
Brain matter will not provide answers to matters of the heart.
It’s like that masochistic butterfly that keeps jerking you around, fluttering beside you, teasing you into thinking it’s going to perch comfortably on your shoulder, only to fly away the moment you’re sure it’s going to land. The more you reach out in frustration, the further away it gets.
It’s times like this that I am reminded to consider that the answer — the resolution to my problem — is already in motion. It’s just not ready to land.
This is just a test to make sure I have learned the life lesson this situation was meant to teach me. But I have to pass the test before I can graduate to the next level.
Don’t do, just be, the Universe reminds me.
I decide to obey the Godly mandate to let go and let Him. I feel better almost instantly. But my resolve lasts all of 5 minutes until the wheels of thinking go back to trying to solve the problem.
“OK, God. I get it. Lesson learned. Can I move on now?”
It’s like I’m trying to bribe the Teacher to give me the answers to the exam so I can graduate early.
But some Teachers just can’t be bribed.
We live in eternity. Two months is the equivalent of a timeframe so small, it doesn’t even register on the Universal time clock.
And so I go back to doing the hardest thing of all … nothing.