The light turns red

The looming birds above my head

A seemingly effortless glide to the ground

My body goes; my body goes

As if gravity is summoning the presence of all things

I’m looking up still with ease

As if this is how the fall should be –

right into me


“I don’t know” isn’t the same as “I quit.” 

“I don’t know” stops our minds from summoning words to brace ourselves from collapse.

Let it happen. Let your lungs cave to your chest,  your heart slow in it’s beats and let it happen.

While you’re falling back into your self, take the pause to see the surroundings. They will ground you. Remember the smell of the atmosphere and the way your skin feels peacefully relaxed.

Sitting at a red light in a daze of internal conversation, “Cover Me” by Kim Taylor. My busy mind was interrupted and I felt like my body was falling from the sky back into me.

I had lost touch – I drifted out.

But, this sweet gift from shuffle on Spotify reached me.

There’s a repeated phrase my partner and a few humans who know me have heard me say – “I can’t play or write music anymore.” It’s been disconnected since my violent trauma last year and I simply cannot connect with my body there. It causes a great amount of sadness to not be able to sing, write lyrics or play music as I once did.

Music was my body connection piece. Music always delivered me to my body.

Today, I felt my belly rise up with desire to create music. Today I felt like writing about a plethora of occurrences. For me, music transcends. Music has saved my life. It has given my body a place to rest, heal and speak. Music brings me closer to God.

It’s mystical and maybe foreign to some, but today at a red light listening to music I felt my body kick, scream and float back down from the place I banished it.

This evening I felt this calming tranquility – like my body was whispering, “I’m still here. You can still feel me. Rejoice.”

It’s no coincidence.

Last night, I sat with a friend discussing our lament over a church’s inability to name harm. We starred at a fire together and held that tension.

I spoke out loud a lot of “I just don’t know…” and it hurt a lot, but it also felt really good to not tuck that honest emotion away. I’d like to imagine that several people before us felt the crushing blows of “what now,” “I don’t know” and “I am tired.” 

When I leave enough space in places of doubt, I think about Jesus going to pray alone before the crucification. Human emotion was evoked in that prayer – between father & son. In that prayer Jesus displayed doubt, fear & uncertainty. I think as believers who are striving to find peace in our world, are feelings of doubt & uncertainity are holy too.

Maybe we need to sit by fires and as we watch it burn to ash be reminded our time here is limited in the grand scheme of things. Our imprints are made in our transparency, our imperfect-ness & our abilities to stretch our imaginations. To say what we don’t know, what we feel & always challenge what we do with grace, mercy & love – seems to be the ticket to balance.

Often I tell people that my ministry looks like learning how to love people well and the rest is always under development. God is always calling me into abyss and saying “if you start, I’ll help you build this – trust me.”

Last night that fire was church, the meal I had with friends was communion & God was there. Though “I don’t know” felt terrible to say, it was also oddly comforting. Maybe, that was the sermon.

This evening a friend and I were catching up and I asked her to name three things of importance in her life right now. She did and then she asked, “you?”

I named these:

“Breathing, writing and letting go.”

Today’s musical transcending was a nudge & reminder. God doesn’t want us to hold so tightly to our I don’t know’s – God invites us to lay that down. Our Spirit isn’t suggesting in these prompts that “you can’t handle this.” I think our Spirit is saying – “you don’t have to hold this alone. Show me where it hurts.”

Our death grips around what we desire to see change create an inability to let go, breathe and see what needs to take place.

Sometimes my body needs to return from where I banished it. Sometimes I need to sit by a fire and let things go –  so God can intercede and cover me.

Cover me, Cover me

All the leaves, all the trees Storms and seas just cover me

Cause I’m troubled by this world

Walk with me, talk with me

Sing with me, love with me

Let it go, and let it flow

From up above to down below

Cause I’m troubled by this world

Cover me, cover me, cover me, cover me

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