Every single day she was up before the sun. She walked miles and miles to her destination. She walked whether she was hungry or tired or unwell. Every day she walked, keeping to her schedule like clockwork, sometimes missing celebrations and visitors.
And when she arrived at her destination, the real work began and the long journey was as respite. Deep within her subconscious she contended with a fear that what she needed may not even be there and she may have walked all that way for nothing. On her return journey, she built muscle memory and scar tissue. Her gait changed to accommodate the heavy lifting required for her job. Her feet and hands were calloused. At night, she would awaken with sharp pains from her labors.
She dreamed of a better way of doing things, imagined contraptions from technology far beyond the reach of her lifespan.
Every day she worked. She worked to survive.
When morning broke, the rooster crowed reminding her it was time to tend to her duties. It was time for her daily journey. Little did she know, she would not be on this journey alone.
As she walked the familiar path, she felt a gentle breeze flow through her hair and kiss her face. She unwittingly smiled softly, enjoying the weightlessness of the load she carried.
Her eyes gazed upon the brightness of the cloudless sky. She stopped for a moment. Something was different, but she couldn’t identify it.
Overcome with her perplexity, she moved at a quickened pace. She had made the journey in less time than usual.
As she approached her destination, she saw a figure sitting on the ground hunched over from exhaustion. A pang of fear pierced her chest.
Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon.
When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?” (His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.)
The Samaritan woman said to him, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”
“Sir,” the woman said, “you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did also his sons and his livestock?” Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.” John 4:6-15
Every day we toil: we deal with our physical and emotional bodily functions, work, eat, raise children if we have them, deal with our own sets of challenges and sleep. We wake to do it again and again and again as if suspended in a mystical holding place. Where are we? Where do you think you are? Most importantly, why?
Our yesterdays are the shadows cast from the light of our present day. Our tomorrows are built on the dust of hope in the present moment. Seeing into the journey of life, we are shown grueling monotony as a drastic contrast to the reality of eternal life and what is offered in the living water, the wellspring that erupts into aspects of space and time we have yet to even fathom. The Christ is there, patiently waiting to be discovered.
On His arduous journey to Christhood, Jesus asked these same questions when His humanity was an unbearable weight that He had to carry. He labored as He shared the news of the Universal Kingdom of God. While crucified the pain became so unbearable He doubted the authenticity of his connection to God.
When our pain becomes unbearable or our routine threatens to strangle us, we are invited to look beyond the ephemeral – to live beyond our visceral, unquenchable, ever-hungry selves and open our hearts to drink of living water.
In Buddhism this repetitive cycle of birth, illness, old age, and death is called Samsara. Souls wander from life to life within six realms on this wheel, carrying out their tasks- karma – in hopes to be free from the cycle and attain Nirvana. Samsara is the creative force of life, in all of its beauty and terror, supplying our wombs with energy.
“Do not be amazed that I told you that you must be born again.” – John 3:7hop
Samsara is the creative force of life, in all of its beauty and terror, supplying our wombs with enough energy to sustain rebirth.
Jesus answered, “I assure you: Unless someone is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.” – John 3:5
As she made her way to the well that was crafted by Jacob and utilized by the many generations thereafter, day after day the unnamed woman who met Jesus in the flesh was unknowingly gestating her divinity. Each day she carried out her tasks with no one to bear the weight of them, except Him. Her musculature was being formed; the sharp pains that woke her in the night were growing pains. Her bones were being conditioned, her heart and brain were being developed and her lungs were being filled with the breath of life. all the while, she strained on the wheel of Samsara. Both she and Jesus walked their destinies to meet one another.
The intimacy of Jesus and the woman having needs at that moment, that only one another could meet, was a mere formality of a long-standing, predestined occurrence that would shape the way humanity experiences divinity.
The wheel of life is a passageway to another realm. Being born in Christ is an inward crowning that is accompanied by the deep labor pains of life. When the water breaks around your womb, The Holy Spirit is the midwife and wet nurse tending to the well-spring of your eternal experience in human form.
Unto you, Holy One I release my sounds of life. My tears are a river of compassion, my eternal body forever new. I am the well and well-spring created for your endless flow. I am your sanctuary of Spirit.