Dear Pneuma,

I don't usually ask you for this, but I seem to have found a blind spot in my personality, and I cannot figure my way through or around a problem. Earlier this week, I received some information that truly hurt my feelings. It was mean spirited and unnecessary. Today, I discovered that the person that passed it along merely meant it as an FYI. In other words, this person felt it was necessary information to pass along.

Where I am with this, my friend, is on the mat. This information, trivial as it may actually be, still knocked me flat, and I don't really feel like getting up. Part of me says, you don't have to get up. You can simply leave the ring. Part of me says, never give up. Part of me just wants to avoid this particular brand of pain forever. Another part of me says that only facing it down will make it better.

Which voice knows? Which voice is right? It is not as though my decision ultimately impacts anyone but myself. It is not as though there is any kind of punishment or reward. It is not as though, despite Cool Hand Luke's example, taking a beating really confers any kind of dignity or grace. Mostly what we get from taking a punch is a bloody nose.

So, here I am Pneuma-what do you think? When do I simply walk away? When is it necessary to stand? When do I let the "slings and arrows" find their mark? When do I put up a shield or start hurling my own? I'd appreciate any thoughts you can give me.

Yours Always,

Cobalt Dreams.

Dear Pneuma,

We are so good at hurting. Why is that? We are good at inflicting, feeling, holding onto and prolonging pain. I see it in people who refuse to let their bodies rest. I see it in people who buy and give for others, but refuse to feed themselves. I see it in people who refuse to see a doctor, lest they get bad news, and people who refuse to try new treatments in the management of their disease. I see it in the practice of criticism and headlines based on personal attacks. I see it in the way some cannot even choose to hear a positive possibility.

I feel it in my own self when one critical remark sinks in and bites deep, but a single affirmation seems to slide off my skin. I feel it in my own self when pride tries to laugh at the hurt rather than let another see it. I feel it in my own self when anger and retribution seem like the only soothing remedy.

I know a lot about wearing pain as a badge; I know a lot about sneering around a burning ache of emptiness and fear. Holding onto pain as a purpose is an easy way to live. We have many role models. We see it as the way of success in our work. We see it keep relationships going. We see pain as the background to the lives of many people, and we begin to believe in it.

When we do that, we are wrong. When it is easier to pull a trigger, file a lawsuit, or express our contempt than it is to shake a hand, offer a hug, or hold our tongues, the dark is winning against the light. When it is easier to rationalize our personal vendettas than it is to mourn and move on, death is winning against life. When fear is our first encounter of the morning, the void is winning against the soul.

Pneuma, I hope you are well. I hope your pain has dissipated in the dawn. I hope you choose love in all you do today,

Love Always,

Cobalt Dreams

Dear Pneuma,

I am living deep today. It fills me with sadness and care. It opens my heart and I suddenly see where I am needed. I hear where I am called. I know what matters and what can be left behind. I repent missing the way-looking past the moment, carrying the unnecessary load.

I am living deep today. It fills me with excitement and dread. It opens my spirit, and I suddenly see what I have been holding back. I hear where I've been sent. I know what has to happen, and what is beyond my control. I repent losing the way-fearing the next step, dropping my burdens in someone else's path.

I am living deep today, knowing God knows my face, my feet, my hands. I am living deep today, committed to hearing, seeing and loving at the expense of managing, producing and getting done.

Last night, I asked my Beloved why the cicadas sing. Today, I know.

Blessings,

Cobalt Dreams