There comes a point in our lives when we have reached the moment of the moment. We have finally arrived at a space and time where the stars have aligned, and we have grown resourced enough to engage in the next great healing of our lives.
We are rested at the gates of our pain, negotiating entry. But it will not come easily. Our commitment to reach this far into ourselves is directly pitted against a vast survival mechanism that has built elaborate mazes and chained many locks to keep us safely away.
We must find a hidden access point if we are to enter.
I have always found myself adept in the art of understanding and mentalism. I can speak at length about the details and insights of my wounds, while never actually dipping into the cold waters of my emotional experience.
Unfortunately for me—and Freud—, just speaking and naming the pain does not always satisfy the healing that is needed to transform such old wounds, especially those inflicted pre-verbally.
What we need is to find a split moment, a tiny chink in the armor where the fortified walls of the compound can be penetrated, and we can enter viscerally into the very thing we had been protected from ever having to feel again.
At the moment when there is the tiniest opening, we must press against every instinct inside of us. Voices will scream and plead, beg and entice, but we must hold the strength and courage to carry forward into the chaotic onslaught of gut-wrenching sadness, grief, anger, rage, and shame.
We cannot be sure what the access point will look like or what will indeed dwell on the other side. Thus the only thing we can do is be prepared to courageously press into this great healing when the moment of the moment is upon us.