Could the source of our national sickness and my own ongoing sense of incompleteness be one and the same? And could the solution be–if not simpler, then far more elemental–than we think?
I have begun to see that the hole in my soul that has recently been calling out for attention is in the shape of something I have thought more about than almost anyone, but, in reality, have less of than almost everyone.
Healing without sharing has been lonely. A good kind of lonely, maybe—the kind usually described with lovely-sounding words like “solitude” or “seclusion.” But lately it’s started to feel like my period of spiritual confinement might be coming to an end.
I lost my home, my community, my career, my confidence, my place in the world, my sense of purpose, and even my idealism—all in the first six months of 2015. And as I started to orient myself gently in the direction of healing, I made one commitment. I would follow my intuition, no matter where it led.