There is this button in here called “Write” and I have to confess, I love this button more than it loves me. Few come back here to read these letters to the God of my understanding, but this is it. This is all you get and who do You write to? do you know? If I look back at all my journals, I’ve been writing to God like this since I can remember. And if memory serves me, I am here to be write, not right.
You can be right though, and I might say no or yes, but that’s just a judgment or a boundary. We can separate. We may even move away from writing to one another, and that’s OK. I am still writing to the One I love, even when yYou are not here.
The life I knew? It’s in a thousand pieces on the floor. Words fall short in times like those, but still Us authors try anyway. We are shattered perhaps, yet all those pieces still sing the same song, feeling holy. Closing my eyes to breathe that moment in, I will step into the light of grace with You. Saying goodbye to where i have been, i will feel the waves of that gracious tune again.
People continue to repeat the same story about this writer: i am a healer. My parents, my family, my world – i hear how i have healed people. When people sharpen their irons against this fire inside, they find a strength they have never known coming from these flames. This is what it is to feel as ‘I am’ now. In this way and a few others, i feel like a walking miracle.
Too, two, to: i’m not sure what else to be neutral about. Hmm….
Tomorrow? I’m not sure about all those days that feel like yesterday, tomorrow and ‘never’ now in the ‘always’ that seems to happen. i live this One next to the sea and for all i know, some weird fluke could happen overnight and i could land myself in that sea for good, for a final rest, and with all this history behind me. Entire societies have perished over natural disasters like the One headed toward me.
i am a natural disaster too <LOL>. prior to the event and maybe never after, i will even tell you how it went down. i will tell you in dramatic or covert ways that sound like personal stories that have highs and lows. These stories will still change Us. Me in confession and You in being my holy priest of healing.
Whew, that was too many paragraphs for One day.
But there is nothing to do, but believe
in mutual healing.
p.s. My friends here in California? they ask me “who are You?” and every time, i speak my truth: though it flows within me, no more religion, no more dogma, no more apologies. Just a bow to this One inside. And, i am
not a Jehovah, freak.
If i were to choose just One Freak for the rest of my life, it would be the One of my understanding and these verses i have been writing to him for the last 37 years. It would be my previous publication Art of the Release, it would even be this Birdanity. It would be my Book of Life that I wrote for myself. It would be this One me that is still just “her” to most people.
~A Writ her.