4:56 p.m. - Mar. 02, 2002
Lifting the Veil
Adam has unveiled a great truth within in me - a great fear that has lived inside me so long that I have become comfortable with it. Behind this veil, he hears my silence�and he knows the words that are hidden behind it. Adam has a way of hearing words that have not been spoken. He has a way of knowing things that he has no way of knowing � of things that I have barely admitted to myself. He has a way of lifting away the veil, and touching the very core of my greatest truths and my deepest fears.
I found myself frozen in that moment; unable to express how I was feeling, unable to express the amazement I felt, that he could see so much of me. Had I shown him? Had I spoken the words? Insecurities, vulnerabilities, longings for those things that I have always had (and somehow always denied) � Adam saw all of it. Behind this quiet mourning of my broken heart, lies a box of hidden regrets. Regrets that sometimes overwhelm me, and I find myself held by its dark embrace - frightened and unable to act. Sometimes, in my heart, there lies a great sadness - a sadness that I hide from even myself. But these are the deep secrets that I share with no one.
Tears are now streaming down my cheeks, falling on Adam�s shoulders, his arms wrapped tight around me. His words empower me. I see the light behind his eyes, a light that shines from some other time, some other place. He brings words to me from a place that is simulanteously deep within him, and yet far, far away from him. He is tapped into something bigger than the both of us. I gratefully accept the gift that he offers.
�Drink from my chalice.� The gift of his strength is quietly given. I feel, in this moment, the realness of his words. The soft sincerity with which they are spoken leaves a delicate imprint on me. He makes it safe for me to be afraid. He holds my vulnerabilities close to him, as if they were his own.
I wonder if he realizes the simple greatness of his words � the simple greatness of speaking words that needed, for so long, to be spoken to me?
They spilled from my mouth, which never felt their passing; had no way to gauge the portent or potency placed within them when first they came into the world, realized and made vibrant by their existence outside the silence.
�It is time enough, you know.� I quietly whispered, my eyes unfocused and intent on an other-place that remained just out of reach of my vision.
I thought to myself or maybe didn�t think, didn�t let thinking get in the way; sully the message with my own thoughts, judgements or values. I know that some time passed while her eyes beheld my face, silent supplication reflected back at me from the luminent surfaces of drowsy tears; reluctant to travel down the smooth rise of her cheeks.
But now this wasn�t about me, it was about fighting the darkness with flaming swords of light. And love.
