Sacred Pause: Bliss Like This

by Lisa Olson

"You are the whole ocean. Why send out for a sip of dew?" - Rumi

Oh Rumi, my Rumi.

If I am what I’ve been thirsty for, what have I been settling for all my life? To feel completion, wholeness, worth, I have embraced shadow comforts, danced with ghosts, I have entertained demons, I have looked into the faces of faceless people, looking for my own reflection, just wanting to drink of my own well but not knowing it existed deep within me waiting for its own discovery.

My happiness now comes not from quick easy highs and temporal thrills but from a holy sense of deep peace residing in the caverns of my soul. Like a hidden spring it flows through me, in and around crevices, through even my darkest places, always streaming, always flowing and all I need is to turn inward, to fix my gaze upon it, cup my hands toward it, drink from it, and I thirst no more.

Divinity flows through me, ecstasy is mine for the taking, bliss is my birthright.

Is this then, bliss? This moment of stillness and quiet, alone, on a recliner, slight aching in back, eyes swollen still with wake and with allergies, toes in sad pathetic need of a pedicure... Is this too bliss?

Does bliss need to shout from rooftops, announce its presence with cymbals and drums, declaring itself noisily, or can it slide quietly into this body without shouting, without drama, and just be, in me, flowing like a wellspring through me, needing not to tell tales, seeking not attention, just quietly, steadily aware of its own holiness, without the need for chills, spills and goosebumps-- just being, just knowing... it just is.

"Bliss it is in this dawn to be alive and to be me is very heaven." - Wordsworth

(c)2008 Lisa Olson