Tears stuck in your throat hurt worse than tears dripping down your cheek. My mother told me, but I never listened.
I learned early to cram those tears deep into my soul, like packing gunpowder into an antebellum rifle.
People tell me shame is the best ammunition: a cluttered conscience, failure, an unfinished task. Mold each one into the perfect bullet and pack it in deep with all the fear you can muster. The fear that you might really be who you think you are. Continue reading
Richard Rohr is a Franciscan priest known for his mystical tendencies and wily wisdom, and he sends me a personal email every morning. That’s how I choose to think of it, at least. This morning, he writes:
Our suffering in developed countries is primarily psychological, relational, and addictive: the suffering of people who are comfortable on the outside but oppressed and empty within… So we turn to ingesting food, drink, or drugs, and we become addictive consumers to fill the empty hole within us.
Can you relate? A young Muslim-turned-Buddhist once told me that medicine and technology has left us no better off than before – it simply shifted our suffering from outside to inside. Continue reading
Life Reconciling 