I see the scraps of past efforts. I remember whole sheets of paper, practices which used to feed my soul. I wonder how to get to that place again.
Some weeks, my spiritual efforts feel like a barefoot walk on a rocky beach.
But then I look closer, and I see that I've been here before. So have others. I see altars that at first blended into the landscape. The Christian community has built an altar out of abandoned houses of crustaceans and corals calcified into rocks. But it's an altar that withstands the tides.
I see a glimmer that may or may not be gold.
Even in isolated tidal pools in isolated shelves of coral stones, life bubbles.
I will keep walking, hoping for the time that the Spirit breaks through my skull and washes my brain with wonder.
(pictures from our April 2015 trip to Hawaii)
feeling the feelings…
1 year ago