My mate’s head, cheek and teeth sear with lightning pain.

His voice grows pale, movements like taffy, a hunted look in his eyes.

This man who lifts his loved ones off the ground in enthusiastic hugs

now fragile as a dragonfly wing.


Immediately my mind kicks in—must help, must find a cure.


Ask Siri, query Alexa, Google it, Bing it, WebMD it—

that place where the common cold becomes a life-threatening illness.


Acupuncture, ayurveda, reike…

A diet—there must be a diet for this!


Isn’t there a diet to cure everything?

Even to get to heaven?


I stop, breathless, call on the Genuine Healer.


Truth enters in a rush of love:

This condition is my loved one’s perfect teaching.

It is not mine to cure.


I’m to recognize the sacredness of my own journey

and keep my attention here.



I can support him,

love him,

but most of all,

let him have his invaluable experience.


What if I had never trudged through the jungle of my own pain,

cried out like a howler monkey in the night

that Jurassic scream that reminds me to desire only You?


To wake in the morning strong and healthy is a gift.


To live inside the arc of a rainbow

untouched by all but its essence—

pure freedom.

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