I don’t belong to a tribe that has all the answers. As a hermit, to witness and deeply sense world pain (Weltschmerz,) is pervasive. When collective and personal anxieties grip, I sometimes slow or even hold my breath. I may feel angry, confused and helpless in the face of human stupidity and ignorance.
Frequently, my dear little palace, our muscles stiffen. You might assume I’m deserting you, don’t care for you. And, true, I often neglect your needs. You/we crave flow, movement, beauty, harmony, sunshine, tasty food, loving attention. You like nights, the slowing down of our busy senses and the relaxation of our organs.
When tension prevails, and our rapport is fractured, then all lofty wisdom and advice seems pointless, I can’t just switch off, since I consider it my duty to witness the virtual show of the horrific things that happen in the world.
However, my precious palace, I attempt to repair our rapport with a little bed-time ritual … I massage your feet, and each toe. All toes have names and I talk to them. I gently rub your belly; I rotate and massage your neck, and experiment with various sleeping positions until you/we are comfortable. And I call on the one and only being, the spirit of guidance.
It’s presently my best effort to maintain sanity.
Course of Mirrors 