I thought that my numbness was an incapacity for feeling, a carelessness, and a reflection of a shallow form of love. I learned from the desert that my numbness did not illuminate how much or how little I cared, nor how deeply or shallowly I loved. It was not the extent of my grief, but it offered me a tender and spacious beginning. Numbness prompted me to tend to the life in my desert and prepare myself for feeling. The rain was quickly approaching.
