I survived my last spontaneous love affair in what used to be called the insane asylum by demanding at all times for God to be removed from the heavens and given into the hands of the people. New students of the divine were more than pleased to see the moment of promised serenity and deep peace when grace lifted itself off of the pages of studied texts and crept into the pockets of all who walked by the window. There will come a time when driven nails will actually remove themselves from all bleeding hands and lean bodies will fall gently down from the trees upon which they were to have spent eternity.
I asked, "How many more fingers must be pointed at the divine?" She replied, "We humans enjoy the convolutions of large numbers." I said, "Perhaps furiously fidgeting with the letter of the law should be made a crime." She said, "Then people would not have anything to do on bright, sunny mornings as the summer comes to a close." I added, "Except to fill daily journals writing words that appear to be tolerant and accepting." She said, "It is easier to embrace ourselves when we remain examples in our own lives."
Even in unison it all sounds so different. Each of us is here because each of us has waived the right to remain silent. Kind words of blessing are the bread of email. Words of love, the wine. What else do you do with God's body but eat it? Just rip the wafer in half. Divisions are now divided such that the system built for diversity cannot function. Consider the perspective of the discardable, the forgettable and the undervalued. Why ask, when you can call the painting anything you want? When there is no balance create a space for inquiry. It is hard to imagine another way while running down a one-way street. As quarantine restrictions increase so do suggestions on how to smile. Interesting tidbits of the divine reside and hide in the glitches.