Ешь, молись, люби/Eat, pray, love (Элизабет Гилберт). Страница 227 из 229

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Then

came

the

most

difficult

part

.

"

Show

me

your

shame

,

"

I

asked

my

mind

.

Dear

God

,

the

horrors

that

I

saw

then

.

A

pitiful

parade

of

all

my

failings

,

my

lies

,

my

selfishness

,

jealousy

,

arrogance

.

I

didn

’

t

blink

from

any

of

it

,

though

.

"

Show

me

your

worst

,

"

I

said

.

When

I

tried

to

invite

these

units

of

shame

into

my

heart

,

they

each

hesitated

at

the

door

,

saying

,

"

No

-

you

don

’

t

want

me

in

there

…

don

’

t

you

know

what

I

did

?

"

and

I

would

say

,

"

I

do

want

you

.

Even

you

.

I

do

.

Even

you

are

welcome

here

.

It

’

s

OK

.

You

are

forgiven

.

You

are

part

of

me

.

You

can

rest

now

.

It

’

s

over

.

"

When

all

this

was

finished

,

I

was

empty

.

Nothing

was

fighting

in

my

mind

anymore

.

I

looked

into

my

heart

,

at

my

own

goodness

,

and

I

saw

its

capacity

.

I

saw

that

my

heart

was

not

even

nearly

full

,

not

even

after

having

taken

in

and

tended

to

all

those

calamitous

urchins

of

sorrow

and

anger

and

shame

;

my

heart

could

easily

have

received

and

forgiven

even

more

.

Its

love

was

infinite

.

I

knew

then

that

this

is

how

God

loves

us

all

and

receives

us

all

,

and

that

there

is

no

such

thing

in

this

universe

as

hell

,

except

maybe

in

our

own

terrified

minds

.

Отключить рекламу

Because

if

even

one

broken

and

limited

human

being

could

experience

even

one

such

episode

of

absolute

forgiveness

and

acceptance

of

her

own

self

,

then

imagine

-

just

imagine

!

-

what

God

,

in

all

His

eternal

compassion

,

can

forgive

and

accept

.

I

also

knew

somehow

that

this

respite

of

peace

would

be

temporary

.

I

knew

that

I

was

not

yet

finished

for

good

,

that

my

anger

,

my

sadness

and

my

shame

would

all

creep

back

eventually

,

escaping

my

heart

,

and

occupying

my

head

once

more

.

I

knew

that

I

would

have

to

keep

dealing

with

these

thoughts

again

and

again

until

I

slowly

and

determinedly

changed

my

whole

life

.

And

that

this

would

be

difficult

and

exhausting

to

do

.

But

my

heart

said

to

my

mind

in

the

dark

silence

of

that

beach

:

"

I

love

you

,

I

will

never

leave

you

,

I

will

always

take

care

of

you

.

"

That

promise

floated

up

out

of

my

heart

and

I

caught

it

in

my

mouth

and

held

it

there

,

tasting

it

as

I

left

the

beach

and

walked

back

to

the

little

shack

where

I

was

staying

.

I

found

an

empty

notebook

,

opened

it

up

to

the

first

page

-

and

only

then

did

I

open

my

mouth

and

speak

those

words

into

the

air

,

letting

them

free

.

I

let

those

words

break

my

silence

and

then

I

allowed

my

pencil

to

document

their

colossal

statement

onto

the

page

:

"

I

love

you

,

I

will

never

leave

you

,

I

will

always

take

care

of

you

.

"

Those

were

the

first

words

I

ever

wrote

in

that

private

notebook

of

mine

,

which

I

would

carry

with

me

from

that

moment

forth

,

turning

back

to

it

many

times

over

the

next

two

years

,

always

asking

for

help

-

and

always

finding

it

,

even

when

I

was

most

deadly

sad

or

afraid

And

that

notebook

,

steeped

through

with

that

promise

of

love

,

was

quite

simply

the

only

reason

I

survived

the

next

years

of

my

life

.

Отключить рекламу

And

now

I

’

m

coming

back

to

Gili

Meno

under

notably

different

circumstances

.

Since

I

was

last

here

,

I

’

ve

circled

the

world

,

settled

my

divorce

,

survived

my

final

separation

from

David

,

erased

all

mood

-

altering

medications

from

my

system

,

learned

to

speak

a

new

language

,

sat

upon

God

’

s

palm

for

a

few

unforgettable

moments

in

India

,

studied

at

the

feet

of

an

Indonesian

medicine

man

and

purchased

a

home

for

a

family

who

sorely

needed

a

place

to

live

.

I

am

happy

and

healthy

and

balanced

.

And

,

yes

,

I

cannot

help

but

notice

that

I

am

sailing

to

this

pretty

little

tropical

island

with

my

Brazilian

lover

.

Which

is

-

I

admit

it

!

-

an

almost

ludicrously

fairy

-

tale

ending

to

this

story

,

like

the

page

out

of

some

housewife

’

s

dream

.

(

Perhaps

even

a

page

out

of

my

own

dream

,

from

years

ago

.

)

Yet

what

keeps

me

from

dissolving

right

now

into

a

complete

fairy

-

tale

shimmer

is

this

solid

truth

,

a

truth

which

has

veritably

built

my

bones

over

the

last

few

years

-

I

was

not

rescued

by

a

prince

;

I

was

the

administrator

of

my

own

rescue

.

My

thoughts

turn

to

something

I

read

once

,

something

the

Zen

Buddhists

believe

.

They

say

that

an

oak

tree

is

brought

into

creation

by

two

forces

at

the

same

time

.

Obviously

,

there

is

the

acorn

from

which

it

all

begins

,

the

seed

which

holds

all

the

promise

and

potential

,

which

grows

into

the

tree

.

Everybody

can

see

that

.

But

only

a

few

can

recognize

that

there

is

another

force

operating

here

as

well

-

the

future

tree

itself

,

which

wants

so

badly

to

exist

that

it

pulls

the

acorn

into

being

,

drawing

the

seedling

forth

with

longing

out

of

the

void

,

guiding

the

evolution

from

nothingness

to

maturity

.

In

this

respect

,

say

the

Zens

,

it

is

the

oak

tree

that

creates

the

very

acorn

from

which

it

was

born

.

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