Sunday, October 13, 2013

throbbing scarlet heart

come to the aid of your children in the daily trials which life brings to each one; 
and grant that, thanks to the efforts of all, the darkness will not prevail over the light.

There are days I wake up and wonder why I didn't get to bed earlier.
Usually because I never got enough sleep to actually dream.
And on the rare nights I do dream, they are strange, restless visions of tech rehearsals gone amok or my theology professor leading a small--but valiant--coterie to against a herd of zombies.
We are fashioned out of the same stuff as dreams are made of, as Prospero claims; if you are what you dream, then I probably need some serious help.

And there are days you wake up late for Mass, and you realize there are five hundred pressing items on your to-do list, that stand between you and a flight to Poland, and you wonder how one hundred sixty-eight hours will be enough to get them all done.

And, caught between five different possible directions your life could take, and hundreds possibilities that bombard you each day, you begin to grumble that "life at the crossroads" is less of an endlessly thrilling adventure than advertised.
There are some days I feel like a gerbil being tossed around the empty cavernous interior of a dirigible.
It's like I signed up to do a juggling act for the seventh grade talent show, but I keep flubbing the act; dropping balls under pressure.

Depressing realization number two: no matter how hard one tries, one will probably never be perfect, barring divine intervention or the Immaculate Conception.
Thankfully, I realized today at 10:39 am, there is a intervention of the divine that happens daily. We call it grace. Still, without it, I've found that my life is riddled with imperfections more than perfections. 
And if you look at the world around you, filled with corrupt justice systems, dysfunctional governments, and people who steal bikes and kidnap toddlers, then you realize that your imperfections are simply manifestations of a pattern that holds true throughout all of creation.

And in so much darkness, the little efforts we make towards erasing imperfections and bringing forth perfection seem absolutely laughable.

But the one duty I feel a candle has is to ensure that darkness does not prevail over light.
And no one asked the little candle if it was made of unblemished, all-natural beeswax made by certified organic, fair-trade, farming practices of harmonious communities of bees.
No one told the candle that its particular shade of light was incorrect, because it burned more blue than the amber glow of the candles who surrounded it.
No one really cares, because a candle's duty is to burn.
And it may not be perfect light, but it will be light.
And the very fact that it is not darkness is a victory worth celebrating.

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