I haven’t written in a while, underscoring this relationship I have with writing that bothers me a little. It seems to me that writing is more a function than a creative desire. What I mean is, I’ve woken up with vague fears and…and…I don’t know. Something like a disturbance. So I pull out this function to help me understand. Unity is beautiful, but it isn’t necessary to live. I have unity, unity with my God, unity with my wife – a woman with whom life transforms into a chariot of fire, a bright and beautiful carriage shooting up to God.
Saying that made me happy, this is why I write.
Anyway, I also have unity within myself. At least when I am not worried about things beyond my control. I guess the function is exposing to me; Leave what is out of your control out of your mind. Thank you for this function, dear God, and how you speak to me when I write. Thank you for my friend, who sent me the most heartfelt email. Bless her and her husband and her child and all her cats. Let their dog live many more years, I want to pet her again.
The penultimate chapter of this heart servicing is about old friends. Sometimes my soul winces on account of them. Run that part of me that wishes it was better over a warm stream, cover me in love that replaces disappointment. Thank you. Finally, the material world exhausts me. I fly in the spirit but in the flesh I feel staunted in some ways. Living feels like pushing hard against the ground so that the world turns quicker. Athough my spirit is certain, as certain as I am that the world rotates about its axis and orbits around the sun, my flesh is all too aware that I cannot feel it move.
In this space between what is real and what is realized I set up my hammock.
In this space between what I know and what I see, I service my emotions.
I write. I pray. I wince, I massage. I eat and drink, I take a pill to help me sleep. A nasal spray for my sinuses and send a message to someone who loves me. He asks me if I slept well, she tells me my company nourishes her. My sister loves pizza and so we order some, my father loves football so we watch it together. I shake off the email I just read rejecting me. My bank account is scant. Steph just scored 28 points; 6–8 from three. My life is life, my life is good.
Thank you for loving me, and for making me human. Thank you to all who accept me as I am, who pray my best to me. Now teach me to love, and to hope. Give me courage to believe, so that what is real is realized. So that peace, unity and flourishing surround us inside and out ❤️ Let everyone who reads this know you love them and be sure of themselves, so that when the earth feels stagnant their knees remain strong and their minds remain at rest.
NP: Good Days by SZA 😊
