A Reflection as 2022 Draws to a Close

The end of the year prompts all kinds of resolutions, though for me it’s usually a reflection of sorts. What is speaking loudly to me and calling my name, and reminding me of my direction, purpose, and calling in life? What’s the one thing that has reappeared over and over despite my best attempts to ignore it, bury it, escape it or deny it? 

It’s the death of ego. Yeah, sounds heavy duty, and like a real burden, but it’s so central to so much in life. The image that means the most to me, that truly reflects the death of ego, is that of Christ on the cross. Some days, when I have been so deeply hurt, I hug the crucifix by my bed and I ask myself what it means to believe, to have faith, to identify with the sufferings of Christ… and it’s the death of ego. It’s selflessness and sacrificial living, the denial of self to the extent that one can truly put the other ahead of one’s self, over and over again. It’s unconditional and sacrificial love, the kind that undergoes Good Friday without really knowing if Easter Sunday is around the corner!

I’m revisiting useful reminders and lessons as I’ve struggled with past ghosts, lingering hurts, unresolved anger, and deep grief. How to remain an effective wounded healer if my own wounds fester, I tearfully ask myself. I must address these wounds, and for me, the best way is to return to starting my day consistently with the things that soothe my soul. It sounds so simple but it’s been hard to do. Prayer, meditation, Gregorian chants, walks, time with nature…peaceful starts to the day that allow me to bring my hurt and grief to God, and to unburden, but better still, to proceed through the day without inflicting hurt on others because I am hurting myself. Dying to self. Death of ego. Denial of me. 

Not to the state of being an absolute pushover doormat, or some kind of martyr but simply recognising some important truths: that love overcomes all things, a kind and gentle word usually prevails, not all battles are worth fighting, less is more, silence is golden, not every circus requires my attendance, I can unburden to God who collects my every tear, my load need not be so heavy, it is infinitely better to give than to receive, stillness and solitude lead to peace, my own needs can be met by meeting those of others, I am not the centre of the universe, and that very lovely thought: What if every moment of every day is exactly where God wants us to be, squarely in His will, wouldn’t that make each moment incredibly special? 

I’ve forgotten some of these hard learned lessons, and so I am returning to them because the way forward is not to grasp for anything or at anyone, but to let go, and to truly allow the right things to come my way in the right time. After all, if I truly die to self, then isn’t every moment a new opportunity to live for Christ, in His will, and in the right time and place? 

I had this amazing peace, once, because I pursued it relentlessly since my very life depended on it. And then I grew cynical and disillusioned and stopped. My heart has been telling me that something is missing, and it is... it’s the focus on something other than myself, my kids, my work, my life. Time to recalibrate, realign, and reset the focus. Nothing else but a vital, living, real relationship with God brings me this much peace, so I might as well stop denying it, or running away from it. Listening to the still, small voice that says let go of thoughts, behaviours, attitudes, people, places and things that are not meant for me, and to simply be. 

Looking at the cross, and seeing Christ there I realise that while we may yearn for the resurrection and all the joy that brings, the real personal growth happens when we suffer, when we deny ourselves, and when we surrender and embrace God’s will. 

Time to revisit my fav little Chapel that I’ve neglected over the past 4 years, and make peace afresh with God, and truly accept all that He offers: the grief alongside the joy, the tears alongside the laughter, and the pain alongside the ease of life. The call is clear, and my soul is ever so ready because it doesn’t lie to itself, unlike the heart and the mind that can spin all sorts to evade the truth. There is no escaping one’s true calling, no matter what that call may be. 

My wish for all of you, dear friends, is that you hear the call for your own life, whatever it might be, and are relentless in the pursuit of the things that feed and grow your soul, whatever those might be. Here’s to greater personal growth in 2023. 🙏🏼❤️

Pix of my fav St Francis Xavier Chapel at St Ignatius Church, overlooking a lovely garden. An oasis for my thirsty soul!

Thanks for reading, 

Pav

Death is Easier Than Divorce

(A reflection I wrote on Christmas eve, in 2017, the year I got divorced. I still haven’t written this book. Perhaps some day I will.)

Today I woke up at 6am and lying in bed, I drafted the introduction to one of my many possible books. This one is vaguely entitled "The Death of Marriage: When Your Spouse Lives On", and is meant to be a comparative look at divorce and death with the premise being that while both involve immense loss and grief, divorce is possibly far more heart breaking. 

The spouse continues to be a living reminder of everything that was lost and so "closure", "letting go" and "moving on" are incredibly difficult to achieve. Many people are clueless when dealing with death, but I have noticed that far more are helplessly lost when it comes to relating with someone who is living through divorce. People need help understanding how they can help. 

Unfortunately, I didn't have my laptop with me, and so all my thoughts flew up to the ceiling where they wafted into the ether and vanished. Would a book like that be useful? I wonder. I think so much in life brings loss and grief. I know illness does too, in addition to the death of a loved one, the end of a friendship, the loss of a romantic relationship, and divorce etc. 

But never, in all my life, have I felt the kind of pain, grief, hurt, isolation, rejection and deep loneliness that comes with divorce. Nothing prepares you for it. Nobody seems prepared for its impact and so everybody stumbles along waiting for some happy end to your pain so they can relate to you again and all the while you were alone in your suffering. 

You are not now the grieving widow deserving of empathy or sympathy but simply vaguely somebody's insignificant other, and nobody really knows what to do with you. And so they do nothing, and this nothing speaks loudest because the echoes from the silence reverberate round your own empty, hollowed out heart and remind you that truly, in all of life's darkest moments, we are alone. 

Oh my. I think I sense the introduction returning. Slowly, the words are falling back down from wherever they floated to, and back into my heart. A book is waiting to be written. Hopefully more than just an introduction. Perhaps a long essay. Oops, my vision is shrinking. Enlarge your vision, see open horizons and embrace the pain so you can transform it into something meaningful. Making meaning out of life's sufferings brings hope, and without a vision and without hope, we will surely perish on the inside. 

The moral of this story: Bring your laptop to bed. Plenty of space there for it. Haha :) Put those thoughts down. 2018 beckons. Be the writer you can be. Find the force within you. Strong you shall be. Write you must. Do it. Focus.

Thanks for reading, 

Pav

(View from my home office, a perfect place for writing)