52 The Lovely Crisis: Take 52.....

In a breath and a few heart beats, a year passes and this Crisis is no less Lovely. And no less a Crisis. In one quick trip around the Sun, I find myself standing in the same spot with a few more miles, scars, wrinkles, rainbows, and gratitude. This journey ends with fresh eyes and more questions. My heart is heavy and full. Because I feel it. Each time I opened the beautiful Russian Nesting Doll, another was inside. Picking the up the hidden treasure, seeing original beauty that seems so familiar.....It also opens to show an enclosed brother or sister unique but similar. And another. And another. I am no nearer the end of solving this riddle. But I will not stop. I can't. The sun keeps rising. The Crisis takes on different nuance. I am pulled simultaneously by joy and dread at what form its loveliness will present in the next spectacular train wreck. I do not need to dive into the abyss but I know if I dive through, I will come out the other side.

It seems best summed by Portia Nelson in her poem

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters

I

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I fall in.

I am lost ... I am helpless.

It isn't my fault.

It takes me forever to find a way out.

II

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don't see it.

I fall in again.

I can't believe I am in the same place.

But it isn't my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

III

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in ... it's a habit.

My eyes are open.

I know where I am.

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.

IV

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

V

I walk down another street.