Today is the 150th anniversary of the uniting of Italy and as I asked someone if they were going to attend the festivities tonight at the museum I was struck that the answer was not only no, but they felt the government was corrupt. We then talked of some other countries and could point out the problems there as well. In the end it came down that there is no perfect place, that in the end humans and their institutions are fallible. It had me thinking of the amazing beauty of the spring rains that have arrived here and the warmth they have brought. The warmth is wonderful after a cold winter, however the combination has led to a bit of flooding in the valley. The fields are filled with large puddles of water and the streams and rivers are flowing in the color of milk chocolate from the surrounding hillsides.
Which takes me to reflect on why I am here, that after a less than perfect year, it was time to address some of the muddy waters. To say that the water metaphorically had gotten too high, too soiled, too muddy for me to see through well, respite was in order. During the planning of this sabbatical rest period and getting the suggestions from the women on things I should focus upon during this retreat on piece I have yet to touch upon was a suggestion from a woman at Mary’s who has known me for a dozen years. She said it was time I learned about men, that it would take much longer than the 5 months I had scheduled for sabbatical.
I have never hidden my childhood domestic violence experience, but the reality of how it effects my present is evident to myself and to those who know me well. Having grown up with abusive men my closest relationships with men are with those who are gay, married or are relatives I can trust, all others make me slightly nervous, and in my nervousness I make mistakes in judgment with companions. It is the muddiest water in my world, truly I feel my vision and view in romantic relationships is as cloudy as the waters of the Nestore filled with soil of thousands of years flowing downstream. It is interesting one friend here hates water because of the extreme flooding the Nestore did when she was very young, and when she told of not liking boats or water I felt a sadness that she would remain afraid of the water for so many years. Fear inhibits us all at times, and the saddest thing is when it inhibits us from new relationships and new adventures in life.
Although I reflected in an earlier post that Lent didn’t necessarily mean we all had to go through desert places, for myself I can’t help thinking this is as good a time as any to face my own muddy waters. You see I was so drawn to take pictures of the river today that I risked re-injuring my knee (would be about the 3rd time) that is almost healed. As I was gimping along the muddy road to the river I was thinking about the kind of risk I was taking and why this muddy river was calling me as a muse calls the artist….if I could brave the mud literally, it is time to brave the mud figuratively as well. My friend at Mary’s said she thought it would take me 5 years, not 5 months to work through this mud….but time to start is now, where it ends is like the silt of the river, on some unknown pasture downstream.
Where are the muddy waters in your life?
What does it take to awaken you to deal with the water?
How can you see your life being more fulfilled if you can get beyond even one fear, living boldly like Jesus talking with the tempter?
How can we allow the mud of our lives to settle into become the silt that allows the valleys to grow beautiful crops?
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