Hearing voices again...
"Some years into our spiritual journey, after the waves of anticipation that mark the beginning of any pilgrimage have begun to ebb into life's middle years of service and busyness, a voice speaks to us in the midst of all we are doing. There is something missing in all of this, it suggests. There is something more.
The voice often comes in the middle of the night or the early hours of morning, when our hearts are most unedited and vulnerable. At first, we mistake the source of this voice and assume it is just our imagination. We fluff up our pillow, roll over, and go back to sleep. Days, weeks, even months go by and the voice speaks to us again: Aren't you thirsty? Listen to your heart. Something is missing.
We listen and we are aware of... a sigh. And under the sigh is something dangerous, something that feels adulterous and disloyal to the religion we are serving. We sense a passion deep within that threatens a total disregard for the program we are living; it feels reckless, wild.
Sometime later, the voice in our heart dares to speak to us again, more insistently this time. Listen to me - there is something missing in all this. You long to be in a love affair, an adventure. You were made for something more. You know it."
Taken from the opening page of The Sacred Romance by Brent Curtis and John Eldredge
Much of my morning time these days, much of my evening time these days, a whole lot of my thinking time these days is spent in conversation with this voice. This voice is telling me that longing for more, for adventure, for something deeper and more passionate than what I've been doing lately - that my heart is meant for more than "principles and programs and efficiency."
It's not about running away with the circus or hunting down another man or finding a new family. It's more than reading books about being a better wife and a stronger Christian and or a more inspired cook. It's far deeper, intrinsic, and transformational than that.
This voice is calling me to come away for a while, by myself, to rest. To listen. To be touched. To be held. To be made new. To rediscover passion for the world and its people, for my world and its people, and for myself. To reawaken my love for art and music and conversation and food and wine and laughter and sorrow too. It is not enough to simply live; I long to live abundantly again. I am determined to do just that.
Unfortunately, I know many people who say that my constant longing for more is selfish at its root. There are people who say that if I follow my feelings and emotions and longings, if I admit to hearing these voices and taking their utterings seriously, then I am going to plunge myself headlong into a life of debauchery and licentiousness. (I am not exactly sure what those words mean although they certainly sound mean - the words as well as the people who utter them. Therefore, I stay away from those people as much as I can.)
Thankfully, I am not the only one who wants all this passion and joy and fullness of life for me.
In John 10:10, He said, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I have come that they might have life and have it to the full."
John 15:11 ~ (After talking to His good friends about love and abiding together in an ongoing vine-branch-sticking together relationship,) Jesus said, "I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete."
So, yes, I am hearing voices again. Well, One Voice actually. And that voice is inviting me to dance and sing and live fully this adventure called life.
Wait, I think I hear the coffee pot singing a welcoming song.
It's time for me to go dance my morning caffeine dance.
Later the same morning after the caffeine has taken effect...
I am on a journey. Sometimes I call it my life journey. Sometimes I call it a journey to the garbage dump of my life, the smelly dark place, the lonely and frightful place. Sometimes it feels like a journey to the highest heights, the brightest lights, the best of everything. It feels repetitive and cyclical much of the time. It feels like deja-vu over and over again. And that is the nature of this life, with its cycling and recycling.
When the walk thru the valley is longest and darkest, I yearn for the light, for music, for feasting, for love, for passion.
When the light is bright and the way is wide and welcoming, I forget how dark the darkness can be and feel.
Very soon after my return from Spain, while I was still unpacking the souvenirs along with the great memories and lessons learned, darkness fell once again, all too quickly. One friend reminded me a few days' walk into this current valley: "We fall down. We get up. We fall down. We get up."
This morning, I find myself once again in the getting up phase. And for that I am grateful: for the ability, the willingness, the deep desire to get up again. To find my way back onto the path towards peace and joy and rest and another phase of the incredible lightness and rightness of being. To grope my way out of this present darkness back into the kingdom of Her glorious light.