My Wholeness
Took lil Roscoe out for an early morning potty, and was greeted by a splendid full moon. With just a moment of pause (as I took a photo), the word “wholeness” appeared: a quiet message that kept repeating as it crept into my weary, scattered psyche. Wholeness.
I recently had a friend tell me he thinks I’m a Jungian at heart–and without a doubt, his take on wholeness brings me hope. Because my light and shadow–my wholeness–are playing out on the big screen. We’ve been in a bit of a tailspin trying to care for Mom lately, and the intense pressure is calling forth my whole. My calm, caring, focused and persevering parts, but also my sad, scattered, anxious and obsessive parts. The side of me that can love, stay grounded, and get stuff done. The side of me that feels unbalanced, that cries too much, obsesses a lot and accomplishes little. Traits that can seduce me into pride, and those that suck the life out of me and bring me to my knees.
What a relief that this sacred life calls me into both light and darkness–the “self” that I want people to see, and the one that brings shame. Thank God, I’m not being led into a prison of perfection–but into my wild, my wholeness, and my freedom.