Endurance

We were married in a wood.

Our friends came and danced,

Drank and juggled fire.

We were so happy,

So full of hope,

As we flew off to Sri Lanka.

So confident in our ability to save the world.

We celebrated our first anniversary on a hospital ward in Sheffield.

Waiting.

Waiting for results from blood tests, scans and spinal taps.

A year of waiting.

My wife’s body slowly shrinking and hollowing

My resolve alongside it.

Till the doctor pronounced “cancer. Two weeks. You should make arrangements.”

I don’t remember tears, though there must have been many.

Tears are inadequate at such times.

All you can do is grip tightly and endure.

Later, I lost all balance.

Could no longer stand steady upon the rock.

Waves licked my feet and a tremor kissed my right arm.

The doctor said “Parkinson’s. Progressive. Incurable.”

No tears. Tears are inadequate.

We knew to grip tightly and endure.

Sometimes doctors will find a way to treat the untreatable.

Sometimes the treatment will work.

Sometimes not.

That’s not the point.

The point is to endure.

Life is not the pursuit of happiness.

Life is not about spiritual development.

It is not about understanding.

It is not about securing a place in Heaven.

Life is not about what you achieve.

It is about what you endure.

Life is about bearing the unbearable with grace.

And the thing is

You cannot learn this from a book, a guru, a lecture or a workshop.

Read all you like about spiritual growth from difficult life experiences.

Reading about it will do nothing.

You must live it.

And it is horrible.

You would not wish it on your worst enemy.

But you must live it.

You must feel the awful hollowness in your belly

That comes when there is no hope.

You must feel the terror that comes

As you watch your world be torn apart.

You must surrender all that you hold dear in this world

For you are about to cross into another.

There is no going back.

This is initiation.

What were treasures in your old world

Are now just empty bags snagging on branches.

You must let them go

Or you will be forever trapped in the dark woods.

You must let go of everything.

Let go of your old life.

Make no mistake, this is a hard thing.

It will leave its mark.

It is far easier to not go there,

Easier to deny that the other world even exists.

But you must live it nonetheless

Lest, on your deathbed, you too lately discover

That this passing of days has not been

A preparation for some future wish.

No. This was your one opportunity

To live a life of appropriate splendour

But instead you chose, or, worse, let your choice be made

By fear, shame or a neighbour’s opinion,

To die whilst still breathing

And your life was a thing of air,

An inflated doll with perfect smile and glassy eyes.

A polite construction

Lacking any scars of substance

Devoid of the wounds of authenticity.

Today I listen to the politicians

All their plans and manifestos

And I just hear inflated dolls.

Nowhere do I hear acknowledgment of the simple truth

That our time is over.

We cannot go on living as we have been.

The planet has had enough of our plunder.

We have been behaving like children for long enough

Demanding more. Throwing tantrums.

Unwilling to give up our toys.

We have murdered our elders and forgotten the old stories.

A Peter Pan culture, we have refused to grow up.

We have denied initiation.

So, now we, as a culture, are going to be made into adults.

You would not wish what is to come on your worst enemy

Let alone your children and grandchildren.

Fire, famine, flood. It’s all coming.

It’s happened before.

It’s going to be Biblical.

Where’s Noah when you need him?

But there is no avoiding this.

It’s just part of the process.

It’s why we are here.

Now we must learn to grow up

Learn that there is always a price to pay

Now we must learn what it means to be an adult

To endure unfair hardship for the benefit of others.

We must learn to bear the unbearable with grace.