Yesterday, during my weekly session with my Therapist, I was having a relatively energetic emotional monologue. In a pause (I occasionally come up for air...occasionally) my dear doctor suggested that I try to relax from the agitated state I was in by picturing "the most beautiful thing you've ever seen." I immediately traveled in memory to the Vatican, St. Peter's standing at the foot (feet?) of Michaelangelo's Pieta. The cold smoothe marble that seems to blush from within. Mary's serenity, divine, sanguine. The drape of the Christ in her arms as she offered Him for us all. The click of feet in the Basilica, whispered echoes...heel toe, heel toe. In my newly attained moment of peace, a still small voice giggled in my ear, "you picked a dead guy made of marble! Beautiful, yes, but it's the Irony, Peaches, the Irony. Therapy, panic, calm beauty in Death, Mothers and Sons...whatever she's charging you for the hour - a bargain!"
So my peace comes with hiccups of hysterical self mockery. It's MY peace, Peaches, all Timothy.
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