As if a resident migraine and food-poisoning weren’t enough, L had an appointment at the Dental Clinic today. One of those pricking and scraping episodes, interspersed with hair-raising blasts of freezing water on screaming gums. L is not heroic. She lay whimpering and wanting it to be over. Then went home for a long lie-down.
What I love about these little stories is that L can stand for Louisa (me-myself-I), or for Life.
If L = Louisa, there’s drama and soreness and suffering.
If L = Life, there’s drama and soreness but no suffering.
That’s another story!
(I’ll put my money on L.)
Hafiz’s poem – my brilliant image – provides the perfect cue-in for a confession:
It all began with a killer migraine. My skull felt like a firebomb about to explode; the pain was so intense I wanted it to. I was retching and nothing would remain in my stomach. Painkillers weren’t an option. It was simply more than I could bear, and to my surprise (since I usually suffer in silence) I heard myself screaming, “Finish me off! I can’t stand it!”
It was instantaneous. Behind my closed eyelids a shimmer of white light washed over the blackness. Soft milky light – very different from the lights often associated with migraines.
The light brought instant calm, blissful relief from the panic. The pain was still there but in some inexplicable way it simply wasn’t a problem.
But then these words were somehow ‘heard’:
AND THIS LIGHT DOES KNOW ALL OTHER LIGHT AS ITS SHADOW
My hair stood on end. Where did that come from? What did it mean?
Those words were my koan for almost twenty years.
Those words led inevitably to the knowing of that “Astonishing Light” as my own Beingness.