A friend was describing an edgy workshop he attended many years ago. The participants had traveled to be there, and probably expected a transformational experience for their investment of time and money. The facilitator led the group through dynamics in which they could confront their own issues. At one point he was thick into a shouting match with a woman, such that my friend was truly worried. Then he saw it.
The leader winked.
In that instant he realized that the conflict, as real as it looked and sounded, was a mirage. The words being exchanged were a clumsy means by which they could explore what truly endures. Yet sometimes words are the best we have.
This same friend had a stormy relationship with his mother, for reasons neither of them could control. Nurturing was not part of their relationship. It was painful to witness other families where closeness showed up in home cooked meals, and physical affection. There was a song that would sometimes play on the radio that embodied the ideal, and it rankled him.
But after she died he had a dream about her, in which words were irrelevant. Awareness of her enduring love for him broke through, rushing past their broken history like the sunlight as the fog lifts.
In a wink he could almost hear the refrain of that song, no longer painful. It brought him a sense of peace that will never be contained by syllables.
