I’m supposed to write an Honors paper on St. Bonaventure and the Medieval period in general in respect to the idea of intimacy with God, and I’ve spent several unsuccessful hours staring at a blank page, trying to make sense of all my disconnected ideas on the topic. So to feel like I’m actually doing something productive, and maybe to get the juices flowing, I’m just gonna start spilling my thoughts on just that last bit, intimacy with God, right here, and there’s nothing you can do about it! (Sorry, I get sassy when I feel blocked)
Just think about that phrase a moment: “intimacy with God”. Break it down a bit, look just at that first word: “intimacy”. It’s a deliciously loaded word, really; there are so many possible interpretations and connotations. But just look at it as it is, plain and simple. What’s meant by intimacy?
Intimacy is a kind of closeness of persons, a connection that implies a great amount of depth and personal contact. It’s a kind of state, for lack of a better word at the present moment, that is properly paired with well-ordered love, a kind of expression (there’s the word!) of a love which is true and good and deep and personal.
Ok good, definition of terms is out of the way, now let’s look at how things are. Think of a relationship you have that’s intimate. It probably involves the person knowing a great deal about you, but more importantly that person, to an extent, knows you as a person. There’s a connection between the two of you that’s expressed in affectionate ways, whatever that means for your particular relationship, and that closeness, that affection, that personal knowledge–that intimacy–speaks to a deep, loving encounter between persons.
So we’ve got intimacy nailed down and, I hope, separated it from being exclusively connected with sex (though there’s no denying it’s part of sex; I mean, c’mon, when you and your spouse have intercourse, it’s hard not to be close and affectionate). But here’s the crazy thing: that intimacy you have (or will have) with your spouse is nothing compared to the intimacy we are all made for with God.
WHOA. BACK THE TRUCK UP.
That intimacy you have (or will have) with your spouse is nothing compared to the intimacy we are all made for with God.
Think of your favorite love song. Now imagine God singing it to you, except with ten billion times more meaning behind it. Basically, we’ve been created and redeemed by the most hopeless romantic ever to exist. Except He’s not all blather; He continually shows His love, through the blessings we have every day, through our very existence, and through the gift of Himself in the Sacraments. Think about it: God, throughout the Old Testament, was basically dating humanity, until Christ came and took on our very flesh, and His love is so powerful that He died for us. GOD DIED FOR US, PEOPLE. If that’s not ridiculously intimate love, I don’t know what is!!!!!!!
And yet, how many of us act like it’s true? I’m willing to bet most people have read through this with a bit of a cringe, making up excuses like, “Well, he means well, he just doesn’t know what he’s really implying,” or “This sounds so nice, if only it were true,” or “Please, spare me the rainbows and butterflies!” First of all, please show me where I said anything like “rainbows and butterflies”. Second of all, explain to me why something that feels good to hear must automatically be shallow.
Here’s why it sounds so good: it’s what we were made for. St. Augustine realized that when he said, “You have made us for Yourself, Oh God, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” God made our very selves, and knows us inside and out. He literally comes to dwell inside us through the Sacraments. He desires for us to be united with Him in the love of the Trinity eternally in Heaven. What part of that isn’t intimate? We ought to have a deep, personal, intimate relationship with the Lord, and He is constantly romancing our hearts through everything He does in our lives, even the things that don’t seem quite so positive.
But here’s why it sounds so off: intimacy is dangerous. To seek intimacy at all is to allow oneself to be vulnerable, and to seek intimacy with God Himself is to be completely and utterly vulnerable, opening up and giving up our very being to the one who made us, who holds us in existence, who has seen every tear we’ve cried, heard every laugh we’ve let out, watched every time we’ve fallen into sin or fallen in pain. It means opening your heart to God’s all-seeing eyes, and letting Him work in your heart, letting Him touch you deeper and closer than any person ever possibly could, and trusting that whatever He does is done out of perfect love.
But I ask you, isn’t it worth it? Isn’t it worth it to have a personal, close relationship with God?
If you have yet to have a personal encounter with the Lord, know that it can come in many ways, at any time God chooses, if you’re open. If there were only one possible way, it wouldn’t be a very personal encounter at all, would it? Just pray for an opening of your mind and heart to that idea of intimacy with God, and especially ask for the help of the Holy Spirit, who is the bringer of this grace. When you’re ready, don’t waste a second; ask God for a personal encounter with Him, for Him to touch you in a deep , intimate way, to begin a deeper, more personal relationship with Him. And know that He truly desires it, and is waiting, just waiting expectantly, and constantly calling out to you in daily life, for you to have that relationship with Him.
One or two last things: intimate doesn’t always mean emotionally gratifying. If God chooses not to stir you in a way that activates the affective part of you, don’t freak out; He’s doing something else in your heart, something just as beautiful, and even if you don’t see the fruits of it, trust that they’re there.
And last, just a little story: One time, before one of my classes started, I wrote these words on the whiteboard: I see your face in every sunrise,/ the colors of the morning are inside your eyes./ The world awakens to the light of the day./ I look up to the sky and say,/ You’re beautiful. Now I suppose I should have seen it coming, especially since it wasn’t too long before Valentine’s Day, but everyone who walked in kind of chuckled at what I had written and asked why someone had written a love poem on the board before Valentine’s Day had even come. Thing is, those words are the first verse to my favorite Praise and Worship song, “You’re Beautiful” by Phil Wickham. It’s how our relationship with God really ought to be, especially considering the entire song is grounded in both recognition of God in creation and salvation history. Yet even at my school, which is so passionately Catholic, it went unrecognized as an expression of the soul to God. I’m going to let the song speak for itself, and my fervent prayer tonight is that everyone come to look at God with incredible love and affection and feel His intimate, personal touch in their lives.
Speak no more, no more, I beg thee;
another weighty word,
another vessel of steel-cased emotion,
and the scales shall tip to fear,
Grant me a moment more
in this comforting caress
of unspoken words, dreams unimagined,
a stream of potentiality on a canvass of silence
painted in tears of love and loss.
Take me not from this sweet hollow
this forgotten corner of creation
that hums yet faintly
with the musical silence of Eden.
I see through the mist
in the panes to your stricken heart.
There is a longing,
a cry to balance the scales
as the words begin to spill from your lips
and down your cheeks.
the words cannot touch my fragile mind;
no, they sink
with heavy weight
to my heart,
and I find there an endless vestibule,
a deep chasm waiting for your words
as they pour but a drop
into the infinite awaiting.
It is no longer mine to listen,
nor was it ever mine to heal.
All falls into the mantle,
and carried to the heart of Christ.
O Mother of Sorrows,
Victorious Queen robed in Eden’s silence,
take me over.
My frail spirit is so little prepared
for all that I must take in.
Take these hands,
take this heart.
Let your Spouse
breathe in me His peace,
that this shuddering frame
may come as Simon to the crosses of others
in holy fear
and loving confidence.
A phoenix asked the flames, “Do you delight,
Oh fiery fiend, to lick my chest, to sear
through flesh and bone, to boil blood? Does the light
inside your tendrils glow with pride? A tear
of pain, a mournful torrent–no respite
they offer from your suffocating fumes.
What mortal sin, what monstrous err made I,
to merit burning scarlet for a tomb?”
The blushing flames replied, “If you could see,
Oh tender chick, beyond my ruby walls
into the light which all-envelopes me,
‘twould send thy soul aflight. For shining halls
of resurrection, little is the price
of pain. Let faith be stirred, and hope suffice.”
Ok so a couple weeks ago I got the chance to see the new Disney movie Frozen. Seriously, such an excellent movie. I wanted to see it another time before writing a post about things I found in it I wanted to talk about and expound on, but having listened to the soundtrack multiple times (and by multiple times I mean literally everyday), I want to at least write one about the music and how it shapes what goes on and brings out the message so much more clearly and what not. Later I’ll write some stuff on the beautiful/amazing themes and messages in the film. Because it truly is beautiful, and should be shared.
Note: This will probably take a couple posts to draw out as much as I want to. Feel free to ignore the next few posts if a study of music doesn’t interest you.
ALSO NOTE: THERE WILL PROBABLY BE SPOILERS. FAIR WARNING. READ NO FURTHER IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN IT YET. THE OPENING SONG ALONE ABSOLUTELY MUST RETAIN ITS SURPRISE FACTOR.
So here it is, the opening song. Give it a good listen-to.
It seriously gave me chills. No lie.
And I didn’t understand why until I listened to the second song, The Frozen Heart.
What makes the opening song so amazing is it literally sounds like ice! No wait hear me out. You start with that driving lower line that sounds primordial, organic. It’s like the sound of a thick sheet of ice, that sound when you step on it and you hear it creak and groan all across; you can feel that power under your feet rippling out through what seems so ridiculously firm. Then comes the the higher, harmonized parts, just kind of riding on top of it, floating and flowing with its own power, a more chilling and yet beautiful power. It’s like the winter wind, filled with swirling snowflakes.
From the opening song, you get the “beautiful, powerful, dangerous, cold” of ice, that “magic [that] can’t be controlled”. Right away, we are impressed with the power of ice. It can be so wondrous…and yet so harmful.
This song has a very distinctive theme, but it doesn’t come back again until almost the very end, the moment when Else discovers the secret to controlling her power: love.
Of course there are other themes here to look at, but for now focus on the part that starts at about 1:12. There’s that ice in music form again, but this time it’s not on its own; it’s matched perfectly with a beautiful orchestral accompaniment, a sort of musical framework. It channels the music, orders it. This mimics what is happening in the scene: by choosing to love herself and others, as well as to accept their love for her, Else is able to bring her incredible powers under control, to order them towards what is good, and thus freeing the world–and her own hurting heart–from eternal winter.
Real quick before I end this post: Isn’t the storytelling power of music incredible? This, right here, is why I listen more to musicals than to any other kind of music: they take an already amazing story and use the affective power of music to draw the heart of the story out even further, give it a new level of complexity, and raise the beauty of it beyond anything it could have achieved on its own. Music, my friends, nourishes the soul in a way few things on this Earth can, because it has the capacity to hold in just a few moments, a few vibrations of the air, an immense beauty.
So please excuse this trembling troubadour as he geeks out for awhile at the beauty of this most recent geek-obsession of his. Godspeed, brethren!
Sitting here in a rocking chair, watching the snow fall, I find myself both stunned that a year has come and gone so soon and amazed that everything that happened fit into just one stretch of 365 days.
And I find myself pleased with where I am, but also restless to begin again, to jump in and continue this amazingly beautiful pilgrimage of life.
This year has been both stressful and painful. Judging only by that, this year was the worst year of my life, bar none.
But praise God, this year has also been immensely blessed. Looking at all the good and improvement, it was certainly the most joyful.
Yet neither sufficiently sums up the journey that was this year. Truth is, I think it is most accurate, all things considered, to say that this year was the most fruitful year of my life. The pain was not just passion, but was transformed by God’s grace to be an instrument of growth, and the joy and blessings were beautiful reminders of His love and mercy.
So I want to start again, and see what else is in store.
But for now, I will simply continue rocking and watch the snow fall, grateful to God and to all those who made this year the most fruitful year of my life.
May God bless you abundantly and make this year fruitful for you all.
Ever have a craving for something without knowing what it is you were craving?
When Adam and Eve sinned, they lost the Garden of Eden. It was an earthly Paradise–no pain, no tears, no sadness at all. No, there was only happiness and an intense intimacy with the Lord. Yet they gave it up, trusting in lies that they might be more than what they were if only they would abandon their Creator. They even gave up the chance to live without the fear or even reality of death. They let sin warp their intellect and will, and pit their emotions against what they knew to be true and good.
And they passed it on to all of us.
We call it original sin, and it stains all our souls. It can be washed away by Baptism, so that we can be brought into God’s grace and have a chance at Heaven. But the effects never go away; we always have to grapple with them.
Even the craving.
Chesterton wrote that in just about every culture, there is a myth or legend of an ancient fall from grace that coincides at least partially with the truth held by Catholics regarding Adam and Eve’s Fall. They didn’t just pass on the sin and suffering. They passed on the remembrance.
We were not made for this world brethren, we were made for life with God, and we once had it. Yet now, here we are, and at our deepest, we know we don’t belong here. We crave Paradise. We all want something more than this world has to offer. We have a faint reminiscence of its music, we can almost taste the beauty, but then all is dark but for the saddest sight: God tearfully ushering broken man and woman from a place they can no longer call their home.
And the cry still echoes down the generations: “When, O God, when will we see your glory? When will we be done with this pilgrimage? When will we fly on wings of grace again?”
The glory of it is, God gives us an answer in Christmas.
When Christ came, God made man, He came to redeem us, to open the gates of Heaven again for us. Because God loves us; the very moment He sent our first parents from the garden, He was promising them salvation, a day when all mankind would have the chance once again at eternal happiness. Except this time, it would be even more splendid; we would literally be with Him, and by grace partake in His divine glory.
But first, the price for our transgressions had to be paid. The cost of the breaking of our covenant with God was death. As a priest once said in a homily, “By justice, we all deserved Hell. But Love couldn’t bear that.”
So Christ, truly God, came and took on our nature, truly man. And he came not as a mighty ruler, but as a tiny babe in a poor stable; He subjected Himself from the very beginning to our frailty, our suffering, our poverty. And so redeemed it.
Brethren, we are promised more than a Garden. We are promised Heaven, a Paradise beyond compare, beyond imagination, beyond comprehension; we are promised a home in the heart of Everlasting Love Himself.
Our crying does not go unheeded by the Lord. He has simply answered it in the most perfect and completely unexpected way.
He has answered our cry for Paradise with Christmas.
Rejoice, for He is with us, and has come to redeem us all!
I’ve trained my hands to fight the darkness with fireworks. What happens when you run out of parts?
I need more than a burst of light and color; I need the sun.
Christmas isn’t just a nice holiday for me.
It’s my life-breath.
Listen, O man,
listen to the voice of the angels
singing over Creation
to the hearts of the shepherds
sleeping on the darkened hills
A silver star shines
over tired streets,
where the children of the poor lie
How we bleed,
the chains of our sins
digging deeper into our skins by the moment.
Our hearts lie bound
by broken years
and tightening fears,
drowning in tears
until the awe of angels
falls on the ears of men,
and God from eternity
takes on mortal flesh,
weaving time and eternity in close union
through the womb of a virgin.
Oh gentle Lamb,
wander, we pray,
from the snowy caves of Bethlehem
to the darkened alleyways of our hearts,
bringing the hope of the star
and the angel-song of joy.
Make our souls a pleasing creche,
for your Son to lie within,
swaddled in hearts stitched by grace.
Come, Oh Lord,
and make in my very self
an everlasting Christmas.
Christ is come. He is come into our very lives, met us in the depths of our downfall to lift us up above the stars into his very heart forever. Welcome him, and make in your heart a lasting home for Him; pray that the Holy Spirit, by the intercession of the immaculate Heart of Mary, may make you a fitting Tabernacle for the Lord Jesus Christ, Love Incarnate, born for us a tiny infant to die for us, that we might spend eternity with Him.
Merry Christmas, everyone, and may God bless you and your loved ones abundantly with peace, health, joy, and love.
O how long will I watch?
When will I hold in my hands
this precious universal something
that somehow missed my cradle?
Stupid wretch. He thinks himself now alive.
What living thing e’er sat like silent stone
as life was wrung from him by Life’s cruel claws?
I hold joy inside.
Or perhaps it’s insanity.
This strange desire to laugh and cry and moan
at this stupid,
thing called “life”.
Oh, hush. Leave the air you fill with folly
for others to breathe. Stay down. Be silent.
Be still, my heart; o will you ne’er be still?
When, when, oh soul, will you your moanings cease?
Again, fool? Bite your tongue and bleed, wretch! Bleed!
Put down your fists, vile thoughts! Away, away,
and leave me! Peace, I beg! Peace! Filthy self,
show your featureless face for beating! PEACE!
Where!? Show me peace and I will yield! Show me!
WOULD YOU PLEASE SPEAK TO ME!?
I loathe you.
Because I want so badly to love you.
Maybe then I could let you believe it
when they speak the word
and act it for you…
But when will you be who you must be?
And who must I be?
Tell me this, and I will yield.
You can say nothing.
Because you know nothing.
Nothing of me.
Nothing of the world
you claim would like to snuff me out.
I know not.
And so I act not.
This is my most honest poem to date. And I think the only one where I acknowledge that I hate myself…and the only one where I acknowledge that somewhere in my heart, God tells me exactly what to do with what I’m feeling. And it wasn’t just the last few words.
It was the pauses, the silences. Where I could just be. And not torture myself with my thoughts.
I guess the super-perfectionist part of me just isn’t ever gonna be satisfied. I’m never going to be perfect, or exactly who I want to be. I’m never going to know everything that everyone else seems to know so easily. There’s no point in beating myself up and trying to shove in everything I can as quickly as possible. I can’t take life as if I’m playing catch-up. Because I’ll be playing on the losing side the rest of my life. And life isn’t a game.
It’s an opportunity. Not to be perfect. Not to be great. Not to take the world by storm. It’s just an opportunity to live and to love. That’s all. That’s it.
And that’s awesome.
The power of music, it simply cannot be overestimated. It moves what little else can: the soul. If used well, it can cause the heart to pound and mind to soar.
And it can express something…inexpressible. What it is, I don’t know. Some sort of deep…reality, I guess, some sort of intense substantial thing that just seems to pulse through the veins with every beat of the heart, something unique to you that isn’t exactly you but speaks to who you are. There’s some incredible something that gets stirred up by some music, the kind that speaks to all that has been and laughs at it, cries out with an almost rebellious spirit that there is something incredible, something completely alive that’s been there all along and is just waiting to break free and course through the world with astonishing grace and power.You know the kind–it intoxicates you, makes you want to belt it out with everything you are, because somehow whatever this something in you is needs to get out and shine, take the world by storm. Something just needs to be shared, given, expressed. Something like this:
Did you feel it? Did you feel your soul crying out with Elphaba as she literally flew into the air on the power inside of her?
Glorious, isn’t it, when it hits you that you have something to offer, something that the world should see, something you so want to share?
But it’s not always easy, is it? Letting out what’s inside. Maybe you’ve never seen it in action and you’re scared to see what will happen. Or maybe you’ve let it loose before and it caused you or someone else embarrassment or pain. Or maybe you’ve let it out so often that you don’t know how to hold back, and suddenly you’re not so sure you like it.
How do you both let loose and keep it under control?
No seriously. Think about it. Love is desiring the good of another above your own. It’s doing what it takes for the one(s) loved to be as good and happy as possible at the same time, even if it means sacrifice. And when you love, you desire it above everything else. Fear? Pride? Weakness? Everything is forgotten in the desire to do what is good and right for the beloved.
So what’s the point of this post?
Well, mostly just to share these two amazing songs. And because I like trying to explain things that just don’t really seem to be explained in human language. But it’s nice when things click together and you find something you want to let the world know.
And somehow, y’know, I can’t shut up about love. So this worked out REALLY well.
God is Love. Love rocks our worlds and helps us become who we truly are, letting out all the glorious wonder that we are, all that moans within us to be shared; Love reminds us who we are, our smallness and brokenness, and yet revels in our beauty and awesomeness. So just let it go, and defy gravity while you’re at it. You have it in you; let Love show you.
P.S. If you see a problem with this, please let me know; I always feel a little iffy putting out stuff where I’m just sort of shooting at something I only catch glimpses of. It’s difficult to describe something by its shadow. Please, if someone knows what I’m saying in more eloquent words, let me know; there’s nothing quite so wonderful as being able to put your finger on something you’ve been running through your brain and across your tongue all your life.
Let’s be totally honest: we all feel totally crappy sometimes. It just happens. Some mornings we wake up, look in the mirror, and just groan. Some days, we feel empty, lonely, or even worthless; the weight of the world and all your flaws just hangs over you. Some nights you just collapse into your bed and hope sleep comes quickly so that the day can be over already.
It is altogether too easy to look at ourselves and see only what we have done wrong, or all the wrong that has been done to us. We are bound up within our own flaws and failings, all our fears and hurts, all our crosses, all the past. Somehow, we feel as though we can’t look at reality except through the lens of everywhere we’ve been and all the ugly inside.
But there IS another perspective which we can, and indeed, we MUST take: an eternal one.
I mean this in two ways: we must be able both to look at the truth of our lives as God does, and also keep our eyes fixed on eternity at all times and in all things.
All to often, I fall into the lies whispered in my ears by my own frail ego, my past, and the evil one who wants nothing more than to keep me in darkness, away from the light of truth. It is difficult to look at myself without feeling a great deal of shame and disgust. In such times, I forget the deepest, most essential truths about me: God made me. He made me for a purpose. He has given me all I am and have. And He loves me.
Then come the struggles of everyday life. Some days are better than others, but each day carries its own particular struggles, and each day is another path along which I must pick up and carry my cross. Things happen to me that hurt me, that make me feel as though God isn’t watching, that He doesn’t care, and that no one else does either. And yet I’ve missed entirely the big picture. My thinking is bound by temporal and spacial limits. Things happen which at the time seem purposeless, painful, and horrible. And yet, the truth is that everything that happens happens for a reason, which we often cannot know, but which God has perfectly planned, He Who is outside of time and loves perfectly, in such a way that He cannot bear to leave us where we are, and allows us to break only that we may find our true, ultimate, and most perfect and beautiful and fulfilling happiness: HIM.
The two complement one another, and depend on understanding the truth of Scripture, God’s very words of challenging, faithful, constant, perfect love. And they ought to lead us to rejoice.
Hold the phone…rejoice? In suffering? Uh, yeah, sounds nice, but how the heck does that work?
Well, here’s the thing: no matter what the heck we feel or think we know, God’s love is completely constant. ISN’T THAT AWESOME?! God doesn’t EVER stop loving us, no matter what we feel! His love for us doesn’t depend on us, His greatness isn’t changed by anything we do, His mercy isn’t overcome by any sin we commit. In the words of a dear friend, “GOD IS SOOOO BIG!!!!!”
The music is God’s unfathomable love and mercy, the dance floor is this funny place called life, this wild and beautiful, rocky and treacherous road to Paradise. No matter how the wind buffets our bodies and souls, no matter how tired our legs get, there is ALWAYS reason to rejoice, for God’s love never stops pouring through creation and our very souls.
So excuse me, I’m going to get back to the dance, hands raised high, joy in my heart, and eyes fixed on Heaven.
“I shall bless the Lord at ALL times; his praise shall CONTINUALLY be in my mouth.”
Y’know those people who have existential crises?
Apparently I’m one of them. Or so it seems.
I’m typing this on the floor of my dorm room, and after a solid hour laying flat with music blasting in my earbuds, I’m finding some semblance of peace at last. Or the closest thing I’ve known to peace for a few years. It’s not so much that everything has gone away, because it definitely hasn’t. I’m still laying here, feeling small, looking at the enormity of my problems while simultaneously realizing how ridiculous some people would think I am.
But right now, I’m looking at it all without feeling like I’m drowning. I’ve got just enough strength to keep breathing for awhile, and just enough hope to turn the next dark corner.
And after all, what else can we ask for?
I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess, that God still cares for me. But everything I’ve ever known about life and love is that, in the end, everyone leaves you, and you’re left behind.
So it’s always a refreshing, beautiful thing when God’s constant love hits me like a brick wall all over again. Every moment that He reminds me is a treasure, completely new and completely breathtaking. And it always comes right when I most need it and least expect it.
I guess it’s almost a good thing that I haven’t been able to make friends until recently. If I didn’t believe God’s love was constant and faithful and intimate, how could I believe that human love could hold possibly hold anything good? Even friendship.
And suddenly I find myself learning both of them at the same time, without ever fully taking it in. Every time, just every time, I can’t help but feel like my heart is gonna break from the healing joy thrusting out the memories and lies. And I cry easily, so it’s been a lot of tissue boxes to go through.
There’s really nothing like it, having everything fall apart only to realize you were seeing it from the angle, and God’s got all the pieces of your heart held right where they need to be. I haven’t quite gotten there this time, but somehow, I don’t need to know.
So even though the leap is still terrifying, even though stepping out of my comfort zone has strained every nerve to the breaking point, even though I know there’s probably many more broken nights in the near future, I think I just might make it through. Just as long as I throw myself into the arms of the Lord.
When once the floodgates crack open, there are two options.
First, try to close the gates again, force the doors back together and put another lock on the gates to stop it from happening again. So you let out a little water, it can’t possibly be that bad. Even though it burns like acid on your raw hands and stops your heart cold with the shock, you can deal with it, you’ve dealt with it before. Just walk away from the gate and NEVER try to open it again.
But there is a second option: let it flow.
What does that even feel like? I’m only beginning to know…at first it was relieving to see the pent-up waters come splashing down, watch the swell explode as it came groaning and screeching out at last, as if gasping for the air so long denied it. But all those waters had to go somewhere…and they’re out for vengeance.
God, it burns so bad. And the shock, I can’t believe my heart is still beating. Barely.
Once you get what you thought were the big things off your chest, suddenly all the little things crop up and gain force in the light of new understanding.
How can I speak of these things, the secrets, the darkness I’ve held inside for so long, the darkness that colors my entire existence? I want to let it go, but that means I have to talk about it…I have to speak about the things I’m most ashamed of, the things I swore I would carry to my grave. How can I? I can’t. I surely can’t.
But I have to. I have to try, even though every time I’ve tried before has failed. I have to trust, even though my trust has been broken more times than I care to count. I have to try to empty my heart.
God, I’m trembling so much.
But I will speak. I’ve choked on my own story too long. I’ve got to force myself, even if it comes all comes spewing out uncontrollably, taking my lungs and my heart with it.
I need to be free, damn it. I can’t keep living like this.
So bring the burn. Bring the breakdown. Bring the whole damn package down on my head at once.
How do I even bring it up…there’s not even time to think about it. I won’t. But the time will come–it just has to–when I can say it. I have to.