A friend lost her mother yesterday…I lit a candle, paused
in prayer… my mind pondering ways I might lend comfort. Also on my “to
do” list, my own mother had a doctor’s appointment (something made all the more
sensitive in light of my friend)…This too, took on more meaning than usual.
I was in no mood for news. (It’s raining. What more do I
need to know?) Rather, I opted to revisit Thomas Moore (not King Henry’s guy,
but the modern day psychotherapist and author who writes on matters of soul). In
Moore’s “Re-enchantment of Everyday Life”
he suggests it’s a loss of magic that’s killing our
joy, leaving our days devoid of meaning…our lives downright blasé. The thought
that there should be a twinkle to things…(as opposed to just “getting things
done”) should be a no brainer. But is it? Do we really wake up viewing life as this precious
gift to be savored? It was an appropriate message for the mood I was in.
The thought sank deeper as he spoke of a family trip to
Ireland, to search for Holy Wells…(Holy Wells, for those unfamiliar are spiritual
founts of worship dating back to pre-Christian times. Said to heal everything
from toothaches to mental illness, these natural settings can be found near
churches and cemeteries…or sometimes out in the middle of nowhere, reminding
even today that praying for something larger to come interact in our human
affairs traces back a long, long time.)
It wasn’t so much his well descriptions that captured my
attention, as was his question: Where are our Holy Wells today?
When I think renewal, or soul strengthening …anything to
enhance the chances of a day going better than it would on my own, where do I
turn? For bodies we have doctors; for minds, we have therapists. For spiritual we
have churches. (A little sad we delineate these things, but in the Western
world we do.) But what happens when each of these become rote? What happens
when these lose their luster? Their power? Their appeal? Is there a place that holds
for us healing waters today?
I recalled my last doctor’s visit and how unnerved I was
at the judge show blaring in the waiting room, supposedly there to distract away
our wait time. (It didn’t work.) In the background phones rang; around me folks
complained (some to each other; some on cell phones). How odd, I thought…(and
worse, I felt). There was absolutely nothing
healing about this setting.
Then my mind shot to a recent request I’d received on
Facebook, from a therapist I knew in name only…who had written to ask if my goats
could be therapy…that a journey to the farm felt healing via the
pictures; he wondered if I’d ever allow tours. I’ve pondered that request
for a long time, thinking…feeling the depth of one who’s life is given to listening to and assisting others... finding his own “holy well” was probably
way overdue.
From this my mind returned to a morning email; someone
from church with growing concerns over a political matter. On the surface,
hardly spiritual, but it was taking place within the context of our spiritual
relationship. Could we talk? (Or should we leave it be like the pink elephant it
was becoming.) I applauded this soul for speaking it aloud, for others were
feeling it too. His was not the first such email I’d received. Healing waters
were in order.
These thoughts comprised my morning…If I stop to think
about it, these thoughts comprise my being…My very life. Each showed a need for
healing…a pining for resolution…a yearning for peace. Each in its own way, was in
search of a Holy Well with waters to cure, and yet, who has time to go to
Ireland? Could it be we have Holy Wells
here, only we don’t know it? Or could it be that our Holy Wells, like our
drinking wells, have become polluted with the rubbish of the world?
When
considering such a place, who or where do we turn for healing? Where are our
Holy Wells today and more important, who will be our keepers of these wells in
the future?
I have no quick answer. I ponder it even now, asking myself,
“And you, Evins…Where is your Holy Well? Where do you turn for healing? The
time I share with the people God has graced my path with…are these wells of comfort? Or have some wells gone dry? Are my day’s
conversations uplifting? Healing? Or have some grown so predictable, that
change isn’t even the point anymore. We're just familiar with our saga. That these thoughts arose amidst calls from old
friends, requests from new strangers and the sound of rain hitting a tin roof
made them sink in all the deeper.
For me
personally, my healing comes through creating…(and very often in silence). Rafters
being hoisted are sacred moments to me…Hitting my knees to hug big white dogs at the end of a day can work wonders, but what about others? (I’d like to think
it’s everyone’s goal to have such a place…a ritual…a touchstone…a friend; it’s
certainly my wish.) Imagine, if we each had our own Holy Well…how quickly would
our world heal? Furthermore, is it even realistic to pray for peace in the
outer world, if individually, we are not digging to find it within?
Last week I and some friends contributed to a group digging
a well in an impoverished country…Today I ask, who’s digging our Holy Wells
here? Impoverished countries have needs,
yes, but what about the needs of impoverished souls? Where shall we turn, where
will we go… when the world has drained us dry?
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