Step on a crack...

In meditation this morning, I went to address the fault line located yesterday. The one within me, upon which my foundational ideas of love and trust were precariously built.

There, I witnessed this deep crevice in the earth, not Grand Canyon-esque, but not fillable with some caulk either. So, per my shamanic practice, I asked my guides how I could fill in this fissure to be able to build love and trust on a firm foundation? No reply. Okay, how can you, guides, fill or heal this fissure? No answer.

I look back at the crevice, and notice that it’s like one of those holographic game cards, where if you turn the card one way, you get one image, and turn it the other, you see something different. As I looked, I saw that the fault line was both there, and not there. If I chose to see the crack, it was there; if I looked a little longer, it disappeared into the plain of the ground.

It doesn’t have to be there. This mistrust, this broken place, this doubt and fear.

I also heard that this doesn’t erase the events, it doesn’t invalidate or refute what my experience was growing up, but it doesn’t have to exist like this fault line any more.

What if I want to visit it? What if I want to pay homage to my pain, maybe dally in it a little? What if I want to soak in the sorrow of what happened? ~ Sure, that’s an option.

But, I got to see that, over time, even though I may now know precisely where the fault line had been--mapped its edges, named its outcroppings--since it is now just a part of the whole of the landscape, over time, I will forget exactly where it was. It was somewhere right around here, I know it was. And soon, I’ll walk right over the land where the pain had been and not even realize I’m stepping easily over once-hallowed and -harrowed ground.

I don’t have to heal the place where love was built. I just have to notice that it’s already healed.