The Human Repair Job

I make mistakes. And the heavier ones often send me careening off course, hitting walls, shattering into pieces. The pieces skitter into dark corners where they rest in hard-to-get places–under the stove or refrigerator, or in a deep crack between floorboards. I need a flashlight and a good long broom handle to retrieve them sometimes. And that’s the easy part. Then there’s the repair job. It is messy and mostly a solitary experience. Lonely. Some pieces have chipped and don’t fit neatly together anymore. The glue is messy and overapplied in some places. In others, it barely holds things together. But then I stop working so hard at it. What did I forget right before falling apart? Resting and thinking seems to help me remember.The body-mind-spirit is a miraculous trinity. It seeks serenity despite my every attempt to drum up dissonance. It’s my pesky ego and its sensitive sensibilities. It’s offended there could be a wholeness larger than itself. This is the point I realize it’s possible to put ego to bed (at least for awhile) and enjoy some peace.

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