Day 29: "Perfect, whole and complete"
Merry meet!
I have been sitting with something for a while tonight and I thought I’d share it with you. You’ve probably seen pictures of my goddess sitting before a bowl that is pretty much always on my counter when we’re not moving. She came with me from Connecticut and she’s been with me every day I’ve been on the bus. Today, while making a right-hand turn, I drove over a curb to avoid going into the left of two lanes going in my direction … even though there were no other cars on the road. The bump caused a few things behind me to fly and crash. It wasn’t until I stopped that I discovered it was my giving goddess, the goddess who holds my intent, the offering bowl I bring to the goddess. During travel she has always ridden in the shelf above the counter she quickly claimed, carefully wedged in along with some other most-often-used magickal supplies. For all the bumps I’ve hit and all the things that have fallen, she never once moved. Until today.
I was surprisingly balanced about it. Considering how special she is to me, I expected a stronger reaction, but I just took the pieces and stacked them back together and voila, my goddess was again whole and beautiful and functional. I lit a candle and set it before her, and found myself staring at it for some time. When my brain zoned out, in came a burst of understanding. I am a visual learner and a very literal person. Suddenly before me, I saw what I would say is Louise Hay’s favorite affirmation: “I am perfect, whole and complete.”
Oh, I chanted it. I danced it. I filled every line of every page in notebooks with those words. I learned much reading her books and lectures. On some level I understood it was true, but mostly because she felt so strongly about it, and because the idea did feel good. Yet, I looked at it as an oxymoron. “How could it be true,” the critic on my right shoulder would whisper in my ear. “You got angry … have a hole in your heart … are sick and tired of being tired and sick … aren’t good enough. Today I got zapped. I could see how it was possible to feel broken, battered, tired, sick, frustrated, scared, angry, unloved – and a thousand other things – and still be whole, still be complete, still be perfect.
A quote by J. Lynn crept across my brain as I was writing this: “Sometimes when things are falling apart, they may actually be falling into place.”
A search has begun for the proper glue and when she is mended, she will travel tucked between my bed pillows.
Merry part. And merry meet again.