Gouging with Blessings

Gouging with Blessings

Blessings were being prepared for someone I know and care about. I was brought into the place where this was happening and allowed to watch.

Ingredients were gathered together for each one; they seemed like colored energies of various shapes, assembled into combinations that made no sense to my unknowing eyes.

A brown-skinned woman was overseeing the process, and she reminded me of someone serving food at a soup kitchen for the homeless – compassionately indifferent. There were always infinite numbers of people needing to eat and desiring blessings.

She had a helper, who was also non-effusively competent. They did this all the time, made blessings for people who thought their case was the worst thing ever.

Of course I wondered what these particular blessings could be, but remained clueless. Nevertheless, a little later I was shown something about one of my own blessings.

My god, what pain! My heart felt as though gouged with a wood working tool.

“Why?” I asked. “If this is a blessing, why does it hurt so much?”

And the answer . . .

“To make room for love.”