Spirals
The Latest Installment of The Walking Stick Journal
The Walking Stick Journal
Stepping Stones of Transformation
An Unfolding Manuscript
by
C. D. Baker
Chapter Twenty-Two: Spirals
Our Spirit-journeys are expanding spirals
That circle us
Over and under
The place where we began.
That’s because we can’t be changed
On the same plane where we started.
And straight lines are just too much to bear.
So the Spirit wants to dance with us,
To gently wind us
In wonder-wheels
Until we emerge within the beauty
That’s been holding us
All along.
***
Spring-Summer 2023
May 17.
“Yeah, well I can feel low-level anxiety.”
Bill listens quietly.
“After all that I’ve learned and experienced, I still fear getting out of bed in the morning. This journey is all over the place; years of rinse and repeat.”
Bill seems sympathetic. “The process is not easy, or smooth. It’s part of being human. But it’s not ‘rinse and repeat.’”
No? I look away. “How many times must God show up before any of this sticks?”
§
May 31.
“So, good news and bad news.” I try laughing at myself but this constant push-and-pull is exhausting me.
Bill smiles. “What’s up?”
“The bad news: my ear trouble is causing a new surge of anxiety. I can’t stop the ringing and the vertigo leaves me helpless.” I can feel my jaw clenching. “I’m losing all interest in life. I have no purpose. I’m tempted to abandon my writing and back out of the doctorate. I’m feeling lost.”
Crossing his ankles, Bill says, “And the good news?”
“I was in the waiting room of my eye doctor and my mind returned to last year’s trauma with Will. I closed my eyes and then remembered the joy I felt realizing how much God loved him.”
I swallow hard against the lump now rising in my throat. “Then something hit me.” I pause. “God loves me the same way.”
§
July 12.
I got to Bill’s office a little early today so I went over my notes. As per usual, good stuff; bad stuff. Back and forth, up and downs. Too much, way too much.
Time to go in.
Bill and I do our usual handshake and then get to it.
“I had a really good feeling of centering last week. It was like everything found its place. Then a day later I screwed it up with some made-up medical fears.”
“Your shadow-self hates a rival, so it tries to take back control by setting up fear.”
Nothing new there. “And?”
Bill pauses. “You’re dealing with echoes of old patterns.” He taps his fingers together. “Relapses like this always happen. It’s normal. Keep your eyes on the whole picture…and the whole picture reveals amazing things.”
To me, the whole picture seems like a swirl of competing feelings that are emerging from unknown places and fighting for my soul.
Bill leans forward. “You have a constellation of trauma that is slowly releasing. Learn to hold the feelings just as they are. Witness them as they continue to present themselves and just be curious.” He thinks for moment. “Trust is at the center of all of this.”
§
September 26.
I look at my summer notes and shake my head. I continue circling around the evasive center of trust. At church I heard someone casually comment that ‘we trust God because we believe he is good.’ Is it possible that somewhere inside I don’t? After all that I’ve experienced, how could that be?
“You look troubled.”
Bill’s voice startles me. “Yes, I am. I return again and again to the same stuff. I can’t find the key to solve this riddle.”
He leans forward. “Each time you circle back you’re actually in a new place.”
I let that settle for a moment. “Well, it feels the same.”
“It’s not.”
We look at each other until I say, “Two weeks ago I had a near panic attack. I was so worn out that I gave up my striving…until I picked it back up a few days later.”
“How did it feel to give it up, even briefly.”
“Good.”
Sitting back, Bill remains quiet.
“I found myself wanting to focus on God’s goodness…and I began praying for joy.”
“And?”
“I was in Virginia and I scanned the mountains one evening. I realized that if I were buried under one of those trees I’d be resorbed into the creation. That really bothered me for a moment.”
Bill listens, still as stone.
“Then I thought of Jesus Christ remembering me.” I sit back and exhale. “I felt good about that. It was like a beautiful cosmic joy that came over me.”
Bill says nothing.
“Two days later I was home, depressed and anxious.” I click my pen. “See what I mean?”
Bill closes his eyes, then says, “We are spirits having a human experience. And every alternating feeling is part of this. We don’t have to understand why.”
“Maybe. But I hate that I can’t find the key to fix it all.”
Bill looks at me, carefully. “You strive really hard to fix yourself, to accomplish your own rescue, don’t you?”
I don’t want that to be true.
“There is no such thing as a magic ‘key.’ There is no ‘right’ formula to follow. There is only engagement with a good God who loves you.”
That gets my attention.
“Whatever the detours or reminders or repetitions, just remember that the only way of transformation is the swirling, ascending, descending process that leads you closer to him.”
💎 🌾 💎
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