For many, many years I have often thought of my internal state being that of a boiling pot of water. Sometimes the water simmers and sometimes it is a raging boil. The lid may slip off from time to time to allow some steam to release but for the most part I have keep the lid tightly sealed.
A lifetime of experiences and years of conscious choices to see the good and the potential in all situations has served me well and yet, the boiling water remained. Always there under the surface of acceptance and gratitude.
Disability. Autism. Fear. Shame. Conditional love. Solitude. Survival. Abandonment. Fatigue. Gut-wrenching sadness. Grief.
Recently the day came when the pot erupted into an over-boil and the water scalded me and the all that raged inside me. As if I was taking the lid off and pouring the wretched water out, I stepped into the deepest darkest caverns of my soul. I allowed any and all emotions to flood out as I poured this enormous pot of water out. Hot and blistering in its sensation, I conceded to its pain.
I cried. I sobbed. I yelled. I stomped.
I questioned God.
And then I withdrew into the emptiness of a pot no longer holding a lifetime of pain. I sat in the stillness of a depleted and vacant space within my soul. Weakened by the rage and invigorated by the freedom of no longer holding the lid on tight, I felt empty.
In the space of barren feelings, I realized that being pissed off at the cards I was dealt is okay. Certainly seeing the good in what the cards have offered me is healthy and a beautiful practice that I enjoy living, but denying myself to feel the pain has been destructive. No more.
The vessel is dry and awaits to be filled with love and happiness.