Drop drip. Raindrops falling on California’s parched Central Valley. I hear the sounds of rain. I feel like the sandy soil outside my door. I take in every drop of refreshment that comes my way. I am thirsty for trauma recovery. I have lived in the arid land of PTSD, depression, and anxiety.
As I ponder what it means to be emotionally and spiritually thirsty, I think about the story of the woman at the well in the New Testament. Jesus encountered her while traveling from Judea to Galilee. He passed through Samara, which geographically was the shortest route. However, most Jews would avoid Samaria as animosity between Samaritans and Jews existed. Jesus actually talked to the woman. Devout Jewish men didn’t talk to a woman unless they were related to them. And Jesus spoke to a Samaritan woman. He defied religious and cultural conventions.
While talking to her, Jesus tells her details about her life and then tells her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” John 4:13-14
An old worship song declares, “Spring up, oh well, within my soul. Spring up, oh well, and make me whole.” Isn’t that what every trauma survivor wants?’ I know I do. I long for that wellspring of life and light to flow out of me. Some days it feels like a trickle is flowing within me, let alone out of me. On those days, I am like the rivers in the Central Valley that sometimes flow at a reduced capacity.
“We have become so highly conditioned by our patterns of thinking that we don’t recognize thoughts as thoughts.” Jon Kabat-Zinn
Water is precious when you live in a desert climate that supplies the nation with half its fruit and vegetables, and all of its almonds and raisins. When it rains, I am immediately aware of the sound of the drops coming down. It smells differently outside when it rains. I am highly attuned, like most of my fellow Valley residents, to the differences rain brings. The kind of spiritual rain that comes during trauma recovery brings changes. We start becoming more aware of our own thoughts. Awareness of our thoughts helps us adopt a healthier mindset.
I tried for years to change my thinking by practicing a cognitive behavioral therapy technique. You divide a paper into three columns: automotive negative thoughts, cognitive distortions, and rational response. I kept trying this technique over and over. It never worked for me. Spending time in the silence of meditation and contemplative prayer, where I would become intimately familiar with my thoughts, works for me. The trick is to observe your thoughts but not become attached to them while practicing either meditation or centering prayer, the method of contemplative prayer I practice.
Becoming intimately familiar with my thoughts helps me reject thoughts of self-condemnation. It helps me realize that not every thought in my head is worthy of attention. Practicing meditation and centering prayer seem like passive activities. They are but they aren’t. They require sitting still in quiet. However, it takes spiritual muscles to let thoughts go by and not get caught up in them. It takes acceptance of our monkey minds. And make no mistake, folks, we ALL have monkey minds.
Drip drop. Raindrop. Precipitation falling down on dry soil. I am that soil. My soul is arid and needs rain. Every morning, I take up my recovery tools of tapping, meditation, and centering prayer. The rain falls, and slowly my mindset changes.
Resources
Mindfulness For Beginners by Jon Kabat-Zinn
Intimacy With God: An Introduction to Centering Prayer by Thomas Keating