Tuesday, May 1, 2012


I was eager to explore when I was younger, always excited at the horizon rising up to greet me, revealing hidden worlds.

And then I shrouded myself in certainty, content with absolute Truth, comforted that I finally knew and understood, and more than willing to put away whatever didn't conform.  The Truth contained within it intimacy and ecstasy and I knew I needed nothing beyond that.

But more and more as time wore on, the shroud that had been a comfort, felt like a death wrap, like protection between the world and me, but also like the clothing of death.  And in a way it was.  The clothing of spiritual death, of dying alive.

These days, I don't want death, not even symbolic death.  I want life.  Not safe.  Not secure.  Not shrouded.  Not certain.  Not easy.  Not detached.  Not always perfect.  Just life.


Wanderlust said...

Amen sister. Give me pure, unadulterated, messy, unpredictable, unfathomable life.

Celeste said...

I'm a little concerned, but also excited, KB. It's been a long, long, long time sine I accepted that I might not have learned everything I needed to know.