A Musical Evening ....

..... after a dull-feeling day.

I went with 6 friends tonight to see Earth, Wind & Fire and Chicago.

It was sweltering, but not too horrible once the sun went down (yes, outside concert).  

Both bands started and ended the concert together.

It was a night of memories, laughs, sweating .... and sadness.

I remembered a lot of the songs, but had forgotten beforehand what the lyrics were. 

Sometimes a song was a wave .... like "Wishing You Were Here" (the first wave) by E, W & F.

Then Chicago sang out a few waves of their own.

Interestingly enough ... I didn't cry.  I came close a couple of times, but didn't.

One of these days I think my tear ducts are going to shut down completely.  They have worked harder in the last year and a half than ever in my life.  Maybe ever in most peoples' lives, though I have nothing to base that on.

I'm betting they're tired of crying.

I'm tired of crying.

Can you get dehydrated from crying?  The answer has got to be no because I'd be dead several times over if that happened. 

Interesting idea, though.

Some child should do a science fair project on it.

(But totally give me a little credit.)

On a different note .... I receive daily meditations from this site and wanted to share the ones that I got this week.

(I only received two of them, for some odd reason ..... but since I was on the cruise it may be that my e-mails weren't all getting to me.)

Anyway, I originally found Henri Nouwen's words on Marsha's blog and I fell instantly in love with what he wrote. So I signed up to get the daily e-mails and words of encouragement.

This week's e-mails have spoken volumes to me and I wanted to share them with you, because they are screaming to be shared.  Especially with people who know people who are grieving, at one level or another.

Tending Our Own Wounds First

Our own experience with loneliness, depression, and fear can become a gift for others, especially when we have received good care. As long as our wounds are open and bleeding, we scare others away. But after someone has carefully tended to our wounds, they no longer frighten us or others.

When we experience the healing presence of another person, we can discover our own gifts of healing. Then our wounds allow us to enter into a deep solidarity with our wounded brothers and sisters.


Listening With Our Wounds

To enter into solidarity with a suffering person does not mean that we have to talk with that person about our own suffering. Speaking about our own pain is seldom helpful for someone who is in pain. A wounded healer is someone who can listen to a person in pain without having to speak about his or her own wounds. When we have lived through a painful depression, we can listen with great attentiveness and love to a depressed friend without mentioning our experience. Mostly it is better not to direct a suffering person's attention to ourselves. We have to trust that our own bandaged wounds will allow us to listen to others with our whole beings. That is healing.

Thanks, Peeps, for hanging with me for all of my wounds.  Thanks for listening and thanks for always encouraging.

You are definitely helping me heal ..... one breath at a time.

P.S.  The "Listening With Our Wounds Post" is no way intended for any of you who share your pain with me on this blog, by e-mail, or however we connect.  No way.  No how.

I wasn't thinking of that when I posted it.  I was thinking of how others, who are not on this path, or any path of grief, can best listen.

I resonate so much with each of you who grieve alongside of me.  And knowing that my words somehow encourage you or give you strength gives me strength in return.

So please do not stop sharing.  Please do not think this was meant for you.

It was simply meant as a tool to help others help us.