Desert Journey – Day 18
“To be or not to be; that is the question” Shakespeare posed that we are still asking. Being cannot run counter to the most inner desire of man’s heart. As St. Augustine says, “you have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless, until they can find rest in you.” Why is it so hard to rest in that place of being? Why is doing so much more luring?
Jesus gets up from the well and I follow. We begin walking. The vastness of the desert is impressive. There isn’t much variety in the desert as far as scenery goes. Probably not a bad thing. It keeps me from getting distracted. As we walk, I am feeling tremendous peace. A gift of grace.
Lord, why is there such a struggle to be? Why do I seem to prefer this life of doing and state of restlessness? The mind overcomes the heart, Jesus says. The mind overcomes the heart, I repeat back slowly as I hear the profundity what he has spoken.
I do not know what else to write at this moment. We continue walking. I look at Jesus with a slight smile as I assimilate the depth of his truth. How often I let my mind overcome my heart…
Scripture said the battle would be in the mind.
I remember as I struggled in my marriage that there was a tangible shift when I allowed my heart to battle my head. I realized that suppressing the heart – protecting myself from the rejection and hurt of a lonely marriage – was making me numb to all emotion, including joy. I had nerve damage to my ability to feel emotions, just as my back injury had damaged the nerves that allowed me to feel my legs. As I tried to reconnect with feelings, my heart clearly overcame the logical reasoning I had cultivated to maintain stability and acceptance of my situation. I pondered this phenomena, as it unfolded, for several years, not sure I should trust the heart over the mind. Eventually, I made peace with the realization that my heart could not be permanently denied; it was too big a part of the most important part of me. To deny my heart would be to change myself permanently, and lose what meant the most to me: the ability to connect to people without judgement. Vulnerability, so essential to compassion and connection, cannot survive in the cold realm of logic. It is an orchid, a hot-house flower: fragile, tender, requiring the right environment, care, and nurture. Vulnerability seems so essential to my relationship with God, maybe because I worked so hard to become self-sufficient in the absence of physical and emotional support. Your meditation reminds me to reexamine this personal struggle and see where I stand now.
Ingrid, thank you for this eloquent expression of your beautiful heart! Love you friend!