Article voiceover
Seven days until my arrival in Mexico.
This Dispatch’s poem is a special one.
Of course, they are all special in their own way.
But this one?
This is a story with a happy ending,
that signals a new beginning.
This is a Song of Freedom and Resurrection.
Of Parts lost, and found.
Enjoy.
Corazòn
A boy. Trapped in a dark room. Demon at the door. A book of righteousness in her hand. Who could know the evil in her heart? Who could save the boy from the violence, the fear, the isolation, the total desecration of his soul? Three decades later, a light turns on. The room brightens. Stains removed, dust wiped clean. Parts invited to swim again with the Whole. The father stands at the door. The boy is seen for the first time. His hatred starts to melt. He knows he is safe. The father is not alone: someone else is there too. Holding the space. Loving without condition. The walls of the room come tumbling down. The house is stripped down to the studs, the foundation swallowed by thick stalks of grass. The trees rise to surround the boy in his wonder. No longer trapped. No longer isolated. No longer stuck in his hatred. The boy returns to the woods, and plays on the rocks. The father watches from a distance. And smiles.
Imago Dei
Pregunta
What Parts of you are you loving back into the Whole this season?
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I’m loving my curious and explorative side back into the Whole this season. In the times when my inner critic speaks a little louder, I often hear that I’m “behind” others in life and I tend to lose my sense of curiosity for who I am.
Reading this right before bedtime was unwise. Let’s hope I’m tired enough to drift off anyway.
Also. Let’s eat so many tacos. And get sunburned. And make sand angels.
Well at least tacos then.
——
On a more somber note, what a piece, JJ. Somehow, cheering didn’t feel wrong by the time I got through it, even though I knew damn well how it started. Well wrought, sir.