We want it done for us.
The seven steps, the quick fix, the magic pill.
Someone to not just tell us what to do or how to do it, but to actually do it for us.
We just want it to be easy.
But often it isn’t.
We have to participate in our own healing.
We have to show up.
On the mat, the cushion, in the temple, on the trek.
In the hospital room, the prison cell, in the church pew on our knees.
We have to show up.
Do the work.
Feel the pain.
Work the rosary.
Pray to Mary.
Ask for forgiveness.
Redemption even.
Not from anyone else.
Healing isn’t an extrinsic practice.
No one is watching and rating our progress.
We don’t get five stars for doing it right.
We heal alone.
Even if a million people on the banks of the Ganges surround us during the Holi festival, we still heal alone.
One in a million souls on a collective yet singular journey.
We must participate in our own healing.
With as much grit and grace as we can find.
