As the rain pours and the evening draws to a close, I am swallowed by a prevailing sense of apathy that has grown for weeks in quarantine. At first, this feeling crept into my ambition. It sucked away my longing for a successful career serving humanity. Next, it slipped into my desire for affection. I found myself unmotivated to care for my body. Then it slid into my relationship with my guru and spiritual path. I began to recoil at all outward forms of spirituality. Tonight, it edged into the fledgling pages of my book. Doubts assail me about my ability to write for healing.
This apathy is like the Nothing from the Never Ending Story. It blows in as a storm and destroys everything in its path. I am gripped with fear that this Nothing will leave me empty, that I have lost my way and will never find home.
In the midst of this anguish, from the power of words, a quiet voice calls out. She says that this too shall pass. She reminds me that this Nothing is merely clearing a path for Something. She says, “pray and be still.”
The fear releases its grip a little. I remember that rain brings renewal in her wake. Doubt and depression spring from uncertainty and we are a world unraveled.
That voice, she is my soul. She whispers, “Be still and know that I am God.” I will wait for the change to come.