The Passion of M

Okay, so it's not all that; however, it was one hell of a Holy Week, folx.

Here's what I faced, in a nutshell:

On Monday, I reconnected with a past demon/lover in a way that elucidated our paradox;

On Tuesday, I ate so many jelly beans and robin eggs right before bed that I was up all night violently ejecting a rainbow of fruit flavor;

On Wednesday, I found out in a very public, embarassing way that I was passed over for a writing award; then I got the living life sucked out of me by someone I thought was a friend;

On Thursday, well, I can't remember anything too bad about Thursday; I think maybe I passed the suffering off to Kiki who had one of those teaching days that makes you question everything about what you're doing; oh, that's right! On Thursday I suffered from such intense self doubt that I seriously considered giving up on the PhD and the book;

On Friday, I went to confession, for the fifth or sixth time in my life, and I bared my soul. The priest went right to the depths with me and held me there as I wept; he counseled me, healed me, forgave me, absolved me, and issued an honorable penance. Then I did the stations of the cross on my knees and again, wept. Then I went for coffee with my dear friend where we laughed our arses off; I think I remember at one point loosely referencing Jesus and blowjobs in the same utterance. From the sacred to the profane. Two sides of the same coin. Paradox. Back to confession for me!

On Saturday I fretted about all the work I have to do before the end of the semester, but didn't actively produce anything. Found out that someone I love from my past is in trouble and pain. I went to the Easter Vigil service the local Sisters of St. Joseph do every year. They light a huge fire from which we each light a candle, twice; the priest throws holy water on us as a symbol of new life and baptism; we sing the Celtic Alleluia and receive communion. I got the dregs of the wine, I mean blood of Christ, and worried about communicable diseases, briefly. But as we left, one of the sisters said, "You must be the light." And she's right. No matter what happens, I must always return to that inner light, that divinity within that connects us all, regardless of the terror and self-doubt and misery I see reflected all around me. That is the seed of transformation. Something clicked for me. I feel like I understand differently Gandhi's "We must be the change we want to see in the world." One must recognize and be before one can do with great love.

On Sunday, I was exhausted. Spiritual transformation takes a lot of energy. It'll wreck a gal. Spent some time talking to friends and discovering we're all in some variation of the same boat. Community is a good thing. There's heaps of snow outside that have buried the daffodils, and I had no interest in going to Easter Mass. I have no Easter bonnet this year. It will come later. I read a cancer memoir that showed me what not to do with my writing, and I watched Easter Parade, my annual ritual.

After this week, I'm recommitted to my work, my passion, and trusting myself, turning to my inner light in moments of debilitating self doubt. I'm learning it will always be a struggle, but it doesn't have to be a fight.

How was your Easter?