15 Remembering Mary Magdalen: Expressing Gratitude

Jan 23rd, 2004 My walking meditation revealed that I need to express my gratitude. I do for Steve, the children, this writing, my ethereal connections, my patients and family. Perhaps I do not give myself fully because I am afraid of the fullness of my power. Before I sink into despair the universe offers a gift. A patient I helped wrote to thank me for helping her, yet it was she who helped me see that depression is lack of self love and appreciation. I have compassion for the human condition for I feel very much connected to my form in this earthly density.   

Feb 1st, 2004 writing the Qumran experience is unnerving for what I have envisioned does not jive with what the scholars of the Dead Sea scrolls believe existed in the ancient Essene city. When I called my rabbi friend for advice she said to “forget 2000 years of Victorian Christendom and just be Mary!” I told her of my visions while writing the desert scene and she was surprised, claiming that what I “saw” is what kabbalists believe. How could I know what is only revealed word of mouth unless I was there? She believes in past lives. Sometimes I don’t know for it feels more like I’m living in two realities at once—the one two thousand years ago infusing remembrance of my potential into the present. The writing goes slowly for my emotive nature as Mary creates such drama; everything has sharp defined flavors—bitter sorrow, sweet joy, salty frustration. 

Feb 20th, 2003 Steve expressed concern about the book coming out. That I might not complete the work, that I’m more enchanted by the journey than the destination. And I am but that is the point of this life—the joy of the journey. Besides I have finished everything else I planned: my education, my professional leadership, my private practice, the children nearly grown, still happily married. Except the hormone book. I think he believes it would be more legitimate and thus safer. Perhaps but I have faith that this first draft will be completed this spring.

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