Lindy Hop Spiritual Meditations: Part 2
It was the Sunday after my-ex-and-I's wedding plans were cancelled. I was praying in St. Iggy's. It was a traumatic weekend, so I was praying extra hard. Being brutally honest, my prayers are most often a one-sided affair where I vent and Allah takes his time replying to my texts, to the extent I might doubt if he is really listening.
To address this tendency, the Catholic praxis (as I was taught) would be to get one's ears perked up and predisposed to pick up Allah's hints, as the fact is that he is always saying something, even when he appears to be silent, and the rest of y'alls just too obtuse to hear anything most times
I heard Allah loud and clear that day. I was no superstitious oik who sees Jesus on toast or Mary on a daffodil, but I was pretty desperate, and therefore open!
You might have heard it said in spiritual testimony that the voice of Allah is "small, yet firm". I experienced it as a thought that builds and builds until it filled the room. The thought was this:
During our last conversation and the unraveling of the last tendrils of our life together, my ex had played the psychologist and said I had "self-esteem issues". I have no idea which Sigmund Freud sleep paralysis demon inspired her to say this; besides, I am sure psychoanalysis was crossing a line, so it couldn't have been a thought from my own mind, or planted in me from her, because I was still very mad at her for leaving. So, this could only have come from above — I can't run away from my own issues.
The other odd thing was that I experienced this message as a Consolation. Imagine feeling at peace after being called out for your shit! Yet, here we are.
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| St. Iggy's |
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