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.

Now.

 

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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