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Then you can compare the claims they make about Truth and Reality that we all share but also mostly ignore in different parts. Which is why we can see the same things but come to different conclusions about how to heal all our broken hearts. Which we all have. Which is such a big part of our lives that we don’t even notice the pain of it. We’re completely numb to it, because it’s constant. It’s so true it’s boring. Which is really our brains, terrified, hoping to ignore the fact that we have giant holes in our chests.
Why should anybody live with their head down? Besides, the only way to stop believing something is to deny it yourself. To hide it. To act as if it hasn’t changed your life. Another way to say it is that everybody is dying and going to die of something. And if you’re not spending your life on the stuff you believe, then what are you even doing? What is the point of the whole thing?
The legend of my mom is that she can’t be stopped. Not when you hit her. Not when a whole country full of goons puts her in a cage. Not even if you make her poor and try to kill her slowly in the little-by-little poison of sadness. And the legend is true. I think because she’s fixed her eyes on something beyond the rivers of blood, to a beautiful place on the other side.
It’s hard to look around in rain and hail that punches at you sideways when you’re on your hands and knees. It’s not weak to squint your eyes.
Reader, I think He heard me. I think He’s a God who listens as if we are his most important children, and I think He speaks to tell us so.
