There Is A Crack In Everything

 

This week, I have witnessed trauma, and that trauma held me in a prison for a while. My body responded with pain. My mind was flooded with loops of all the chains, wrapping around me. It was, perhaps, one of the worst periods of my present stage. I looked for escapes everywhere I went. Nothing gave me any sense of peace. In fact, I thought I may have missed something terribly significant.

When mom called me, crying, I could not ignore her tears. I had to go home to see if this was, in fact, “her time,” for this is exactly what she was saying between her breaths, each one. Her breathing was shallow and fast. Her agony was very real, but there was not a bodily reason for her mind’s behavior. She had worked herself into a complete panic by believing in time and that time had an end.

Meanwhile, at work, the job became another call, just as desperate and just as painful. There was talk of numbers and the numbers were not good. There was talk of orders and the orders were not being fulfilled on time. Time, in fact, was the enemy this week. I was given only hours to get certain numbers together and I was given only hours to get the right kind of help for mom.

It suddenly occurred to me that the shortage of time was my newest enemy. There was no way I could get the sales needed for the store’s quota. There was no way I could get the orders out on time. I could not sleep at the hospital, while doctors tried to find a reason why my mom was convinced her body was expiring. Mom was crying out, in a disturbingly loud voice, “God, please give me time. God, just a little more time.”

I was not sure whether she was dying or not, but while the time she asked for was being granted, I witnessed, as she spent that time, asking for more time. She was caught in her own trap, begging for time and using her time to beg.

This was one of the hardest things I have ever witnessed. There was no way to comfort her. I saw the worst case of ego-identity I’ve ever witnessed. For mom, there was no present moment at all. It had vanished. All of her hopes were fixed in the future, but she was never present when her future arrived. Moment by moment, each present state was consumed by desperate pleas for the next moment. I had pity, but there was no one to help. I was tending to my mother in the present, but she was already in her own future. For a moment, I was sure that she was the only prisoner of this dreadful state; but the identical, present state, finally overtook me as well. I began to imagine some time in the future as my only way out.

So I finally left the hospital to get some rest and maybe some sleep. While replaying the crisis in my mind, I finally dozed off in spite of myself. When my mind had finally stopped, the phone rang. It was the hospital. It was pouring down rain and it was midnight. They told me that mom could now go home. Of course I convinced them it would be best if this happened it the morning and I hung up the phone. But this allowed my mind to reactivate and I had even more reasons to hope in some future state; where I could be at peace.

I did doze off, but I managed to get up and go to work. I was tired and frazzled by the day before. Jeff was off to get mom and he would get her home. However, work felt like ice-water as I walked in; and it felt as though it was being splashed on my face. “Wake up!” the war bell rang, “There is work to do and the numbers are off.”

I was cornered by management and I was asked about the troubles in the store. I needed to tell the stories of desperation. I even told the store manager that I was going to have to resign due to the stress. She begged me not to and you would not believe what she asked for, “Time.”

“Mark,” she said, “You’ve got to give me time.”

She had no idea what she was asking of me and she had no idea how depleted my time-bank was. “Time,” I thought, “There is that word again.”

And then, I got up another day – today – and I thought I should listen to Eckhart. I don’t know what I expected. I was hoping he would have a word for me. I felt like I’d lost so much peace and joy this week. I was not sure how I could get back.

“You can become so unhappy that you will wake up,” He said, “Many people have to lose a lot in order to realize who they are.”

My ears pointed toward Tolle the way a satellite dish turns toward a signal. I knew he was talking to me.

“It was Leonard Cohen, I believe, who said, ‘There is a crack in everything; that’s how the light gets in.’” said Tolle.

I turned off the TV and I listened to Cohen’s song.

This week has not been sent to destroy me; it was given to me as a new crack.

“And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.” Romans 5:3-5 KJV