Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Crush

First this connection, the way I end up smiling over something you said. Then I see you face to face when you give an interview. Then I hear from someone else who connected with you over a different book. You made her think of literature as a white knight in a fairy tale, she writes. Her description bumps my heart just a little. 

I'm not committed enough, just yet, for an actual date. But the coincidences are just as delicious as bumping into a crush on the college campus. The frisson of pleasure, the way you lift my spirits with just a few words. 

I never know where I'll find you next. But soon, I might just borrow one of your books and settle in for a good long read. Will we connect, will your words find a place on my shelves? For now, I'll enjoy the anticipation of discovering a writer new to me. Keep it up and we might just spend a weekend together soon. 

Monday, March 23, 2015

Spin


With shadows so dark and thick I'm certain the light blazes bright and strong and close behind. But there is no turning time back, is there? I must hold faith instead that the earth spins and spins, and so must spin back into the light. If only I could feel the slightest shove, a little give as the path dips forward into deepening night.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Faith like water

Faith in the divine is not a flag to be hoisted at every opportunity with the expectation that all bow to your definitions of divinity. My faith is quiet like water. For starters, it's fluid. And secondly, I don't often discuss it. It's a small molecule with not much to be said for it.

It's more obvious at some times than others. Sometimes I get thirsty and want more. Too much faith makes my stomach bloat uncomfortably, with no room to hold other sustenance. Divinity, like water, is everywhere: in every cell, most soils, even on other planets. There's a big giant ocean of it around us. But still there are places where it is not -- and yes, this is okay too. Not everything must be divine or contain water.

The best food has water, and the worst. But it's not what we speak about when we discuss flavor, or texture, or the way some foods comfort and delight. There is no need to discuss the water, is there?

Unless you have discovered for the first time that water is in your vegetables. Like a child with a new word or toy, some who have "found" divinity tout it everywhere: Look what I know! Hey, did you know water is everywhere? Did you know that love is God, and kindness to all men is God, and .... is God? To some it is excitement, to others a need for validation. It's as though they can't fully believe that everything has water unless someone else does too. But just because vegetables have water, doesn't mean they are nothing but it. Just as all love is a bit of a miracle -- but it's also just a bit foolish, funny, mad, and more.

Faith, like water, comforts me. I swallow big gulps of it when I'm hurt and stressed. I stand under a steaming spray of it to sort out tricky questions. Once in a while, I dunk my head deep under until it leaves me breathless. Faith, like water, can drown everything else out. Including reason, and love, and logic. Too much water will kill you for lack of air. As can too much faith, when it cuts you off from the dust and heat and trappings of life.

There are variants of water: sparkling, iced, flavored, sourced from mountain streams. Pick your favorite kind of divinity. But here's the most important courtesy you can afford others: Sip quietly.

And in my view of faith as water, these are the simple rules:

Don't push your preferred brand or style on others. Don't claim they are all the same. Don't argue over the differences. Don't hold someone else's head underwater. Don't expect others to see the water in food. Some like to focus on the flavors and colors and other wonders -- let them be. Don't interrupt to demand they spot the water. In focusing on the divine, don't forget the rest of who a person or thing or place or emotion is.

You are water. But you are more than just water. Accept it as you will. Remember it. Hold it close. And stop talking about it.