No longer immune
What has happened to the barrier?
What has happened to the cushion?
What has happened to the front, the façade, the mask I used to don so quickly, so conveniently, so comfortably?
I used to answer the question, “how are you?” with “fine” . . . and really mean it.
But now I’m . . .
No longer immune.
Every breeze slams the thin skin of my heart with startling impact.
“Tenderness comes from pain.” The lyrics of this Sade song sends echoes through my whole being. I feel everything, deeply, extremely, painfully, joyfully, relentlessly.
What happened to “comfortably numb”? That comfortable numbness of living above the ground, in the clouds, removed from the toughness of life, isolated from the sorrow of others. Out of sight, out of mind, they say. And it works. We turn away and it no longer exists.
What no longer exists? Who have we turned away from? What have we lost in turning away from life, from people, from the raw reality that surrounds us?
Insulated, isolated, immune.
Then the gold is taken through the fire.
The dross of insulation, isolation, immunity is burned off as we are no longer able to turn away. That comfortable numbness can no longer be found.
I used to be strong. By strength, I meant insulated, isolated, and immune. Hidden away.
Now, in my weakness, I am strong. I can feel all of life. I can feel with full compassion and empathy.
No more hiding. No more protecting myself from life. Fully human, fully alive.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What is it that you were given?
I mean from the loss.
After, what was taken.
That very thing you could never
live without.
The person or place;
the secret, or circumstance—
now that it is gone,
or has been found out,
and you can no longer call it foundation,
What is it that you were given?
You know, and I know, this:
There is a hollowing out.
Something comes and opens you up
right
down
the
middle
and from that moment on
you are no longer immune to this world.
You wake, you wander,
every familiar, now a foreign.
You walk as through water
until you make it back to your bed
and finally, even there—
your sheets; your own pillow’s scent different,
as if daily someone repaints your room, displaces something,
disturbs a cherished memento.
You see,
sometimes we are emptied.
We are emptied
because
Life wants us to know
so
much
more
Light.
–What is It That You Were Given? by Em Claire © 2006
Living with Open Hands 
Khadija
July 27, 2010
Your words are mesmerizing. Honestly, I wish I could communicate my thoughts into words like that. I try, but they never seem to come out right.
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Ron Irvine
July 27, 2010
Thank you, Khadija. That’s a powerful affirmation for me. It takes a lot of effort and determination to communicate clearly. But it comes to a point where something in my heart strongly needs to be expressed. So I sit until I’m able to “give birth” to what is in my heart at that time. Then I can rest easy again. I often wonder if that is a common experience for others?
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Ron Irvine
April 11, 2011
“Real fearlessness is the product of tenderness. It comes from letting the world (touch) your heart… You are willing to open up, without resistance or shyness, and face the world. You are willing to share your heart with others. (Chogyam Trungpa)
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Ron Irvine
April 16, 2011
“It is the fact that, at a certain moment, when we are so far from our own country . . . we are seized by a vague fear, and an instinctive desire to go back to the protection of old habits . . . At that moment, we are feverish but also porous, so that the slightest touch makes us quiver to the depth of our being. We come across a cascade of light, and there is eternity.” (Albert Camus)
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