I was in a group last week and the leader asked us what kind of spiritual practice we had that was helping us become whole.

I thought – what does that even mean to me?  Whole. 

Do I even believe in wholeness?  Not really.

We are always incomplete, always missing something, always imperfect. 

Never whole.

But I knew what she was getting at.  She wasn’t trying to get at wholeness in a perfection sense, but in some other sense. But she wasn’t going to define it for us.  She was going to let us define it for ourselves.

For me…

Wholeness is:

Being able to sit with what is missing: in me, in life, in others and be at peace.

It is not feeling the need to fix, control, strive to move from the current place of lack to place of non-lack But it’s not a numbing to the desire.  Not a detachment from the longing for the place of non-lack.

Instead it’s the ability to feel all the strength of desire and longing and be completely in love with the longing, without needing to fulfill it. 

That’s the closest I can get to love and grace co-existing in me.