There Are Holes In The Sky

Where the Light Gets In

Dear Friend,

The more people you connect to, the more challenges you hear of—and the more joy.
It is a world of contrast.

In this very moment, I am thinking of parents whose children are sick, or who are grieving the unimaginable.
Relatives captured at gunpoint and shot.
Family conflicts.
Rites of passage.
Career successes and financial rewards.
New initiatives, and arrangements being made for transitions into later years, bodies aging to the point of limitation.

Somewhere, a friend is dealing with the pain of injury; another, the relief of newfound clarity and direction.
Another is feeling deeply into early childhood wounds and experiencing the expansion of deepening self-compassion.
A new home.
Elsewhere, yet another is coming to terms with threatened repossession, drowning in paperwork and bills and heavy toil.
Other friends withdrawing into self-imposed isolation.

It makes your heart grow.

And then there was the time that my only thoughts were for this small I—
“a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making [you] happy.”
(Thank you, Bernard Shaw, for the mirror.)

And who knows when it will be that way again?
But for now, it has momentarily stepped to the side long enough for the light to get in,
and prayers are all that matter.
Just in this moment, at least.

A moment of freedom from the false self,
before the movie screen plays yet another hackneyed rerun.

Till tomorrow

Love

Mikey

(Also thanks to Spike Milligan for today’s title.)

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