Saturday, May 12, 2018

Life Lines

It seems appropriate to share the many threads that carry me forward and the many threads that continue to anchor me to what has been. These are my umbilical threads connecting me to all that was thrust upon me those who didn't quite know how to protect me from early childhood trauma. These threads tend to heaviness having been spun, and then repeatedly dipped in suffering.

It seems appropriate, but I cannot promise I will truly share all of my story here. I am sure it is impossible to do that even if that was my desire.

I never set out to learn magic; the idea would have frightened me. Magic is evil, right? Yet, what was the feeding of 5,000 by Jesus the Christ if not an act of magic?

When I found the holy magic of grace within the hollow, that was also an act of magic. Miracles is another word for magic--at least, it is to me.

The threads of my life since my finding the holy magic of grace are the colors of earth--both in the vivid tones of earth's polished gems, in the colors of soil, and in the many shades of water. I hungered to serve God and I poured out my life force in service taking on one of the (still) most unwelcomed topics: anti-racism. I poured myself out within the whitest denomnation in the United States.

My service was not an easy service but I did a truly fine job! My first anti-racism presentation was in 1991. My last was in November of last year. I retired in March of last year. 

I was called a healer. I was called a devil. I suspect both perceptions were sincere. I am flatterd by the former and --now that I am retired and no longer get paid to talk to hurting people (hurt people hurt people)--I am amused by the latter. The fragility it exposes! I will write a bit about the experiences I have had as well as some I am having. I may comment on what is happening in the news. We shall see!



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