Surrender, Oh, Surrender

How beautiful a thing our humanity is, that glassy essence within the human spirit that refuses to die. If I could walk up the staircase of my own internal being, I would see a million gorgeous fractures that somehow illuminate even in the most deafening darkness. The illumination not from the pieces that remain whole, but through the fractures themselves. The child who survives abuse, the man who survives abandonment, the mother surviving the death of her only son, this is the humanity and the capability of love within us all.

Even in the most awful moments, there is a certain kind of still beauty to find in the absolute destruction of the spirit. The very fact that you are capable to feel such despair, to feel so disowned, so disorientated, and so blazingly alienated is the most high proof of your humanity. What type of dead soul could feel such pain? The unravel is proof of your humanity, the proof that you are still alive. And if you are still alive even in the most disfiguring affliction, there remains absolutely nothing on this earth that can end you.

Affliction is grace.

I wish you could take my hand and that we could walk, our fingers locked gently together, to the core of your being. And there I wish we could scale the staircase together, so that at the peak I could shine a flashlight and show you how luminous your soul is, even though it feels broken. I wish I could hold you as you rediscovered your humanity.

We find ourselves in the most troubling world, one where everything has no qualms about human destruction and harm seems to come our way.

What more could we ask a human if not to just survive this existence?