The residence of my pain is in being human. It is in my humanity, my open wound bleeding, it is in loving, it is in letting go, it is in dying, and in my palpable erroneous fears, it is in learning and unlearning, it is in my faith and my faithlessness, it is in the shadow my heart throws off as what’s open and innocent expands to know itself in deeper and deeper measures. The residence of my pain is in the earth innocence I lost when I was four years old, finding her over and over again when the separation is upon me, when her abject fear and sadness is activated upon the humanity I wear. The residence of my pain is in the small that remains even when I am the big, when I am that which I am, “here,” in the authenticity of the moment that demands I be just that, as life gathers to me more of itself, (and in my resistance to hold what surely most be beyond my bodies capacity too,) I contract and fall separate and fall a light sleep, but never, out of innocence that is my love exemplified. The residence of my pain is in opening in innocence again and again in trusting its love who’ll receive me.  The residence of my pain is in having to walk through the dark, “knowing” the lights right here.

 

This was written by my wife Jill. Her knowing and light were guidance for all who know her. I’m thankful to participate with open heart in all love knowing full well that it is available to all who are willing to feel.