these strange conversations will set your heart free
our strange conversations lift burdens from me, my friend, come back again
our strange conversations will leave us amused
you’re faster and clearer, you seem less confused, my friend.
‘Dain’ by Denison Witmer
I sometimes feel the need for a seriously deep talk with my confident/mentor. This is a person I’m able to share things with that makes me feel cared for. It’s not that this person is necessarily more open than others I know, but what I do notice is that he seems to care for me more than others, and this drives me to confide in him more deeply because I tend to have this assurance that I won’t be rejected–but again, maybe all humans are limited somewhere. I feel like I should describe it by saying that, he is loving–most of the time. From time to time I’ll be talking with a friend about something, and whatever it is we’re talking about will remind me, deeply in my heart, that if it wasn’t for my mentor’s help and support, I wouldn’t be where I am today. And it’s there also, in those moments of remembrance that I feel a need to talk to him again–I feel called to a warm, true, heartfelt discussion. It’s interesting that I just described it that way. It seems to imply that most discussions aren’t like that. They aren’t heartfelt, aren’t warm, aren’t true, aren’t…and somehow something tells me we need these like food.
But more generally, I’ll tend to feel sort of ignorant of this apparent need to talk. It’s perhaps not necessarily that I’m doing better or that everything is fine, but rather, that I’m not willing or able to get real. It may be that I use the high of previous heartfelt discussions to get through life and then must eventually come back to have another one to keep going. It seems I go through this process of continually being mistaken about what’s important; following after certain things until I finally see that I need to just calm down and possibly, just be real. That’s why this ‘’real’’ conversation stuff becomes necessary, it’s like a confession. Maybe most of the time I’m lying to myself until I finally need to let someone know the truth…and it seems to hurt.
There’s something incredibly painful about this confiding; maybe in the same way that it hurts to follow my passions. It’s not that whenever we meet things hurt in me or anything. But lately I’ve been feeling a recurrent need for this heartfelt discussion, but can’t seem to get to it. It seems like these courageous moments of desire to confide come and go quickly. This sort of will to be true doesn’t remain for long within me. That purity loses itself. Vanishes. It’s a shame I find. It’s kind of like my heart becomes clear, and then foggy. It’s kind of like having courage and then, not caring anymore. The more I think about it, all this seems to resemble my understanding of what prayer is. What Christians call our “running away from God”; And then one day, we open our bag, and a few rotten fruits fall on the floor, and we say…”this is all I have, (Lord)”. And we seek some kind of grace, some kind of compassion.
I’m not even sure what it is exactly I have to confide, maybe just that I’m hurting. maybe just that I’m tired. maybe just to know that someone cares about the real me, even if I don’t deserve it.
And if I’m running away from this, it may be because I’m running away from this truth that I need love. Maybe this is what honest beggars feel.