Lint

May 15, 2012

I took a walk up to Robbins Farm.  The name of the playground, Skyline Park, gives a better sense of what’s up there — a view of the Boston skyline, I think it’s eight miles away (at least, that’s what the stone marker a block from my house suggests).  Golden dome of the State House, the cables stretched like string design on the Leonard Zakim Bridge.

What I like is sitting on a rock outcropping at the top of the property.  I feel like a child of the earth and sky holding hands between both my parents when I sit there.

Today, after feeling their embrace, it occurred to me what the lint episode could be reflecting back to me, especially with the turning-the-socks-inside-out business.

In certain circumstances I hear another person’s interior lint — I hear the lie or the anxiety or the shyness masked.  I think I can help bring that lint to the outside for resolution when the person is incapable of doing it themselves.  When it has built up inside them for quite some time, it can be quite messy, and I think there is a way of parceling out that clean-up among many people, even having it borne by entire populations.

I suspect that part of the spiritual profile that is necessary for this type of work is common to other lines of spiritual work, because I think I get mistaken for something I’m not.  I think I’m just the local spiritual AAA tow truck driver.

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