Writing about spiritual issues can be a lonely occupation.
Those of us who struggle to understand where we are in the greater scheme of things, our place in existence, often find ourselves slogging through the quagmires of religious institutions, social conventions, revolutionary ideas, and human foibles. It’s a messy place and light seems to get sucked into it, never to be seen again.
Truth remains, however, and can be found in hearts and minds, our own and others. To see that light again we must scoop our brains out of our fractured skulls onto our blank pages and sweeten them with the blood of our broken hearts. We must pierce both conscience and consciousness in order to find truth’s core.
It is a painful process. Some believe that it begins at birth and ends at death. Some, myself included, believe truth is more river than pond, never-ending, part of a cycle of rain forming rivers that work their way to lakes and seas that, in turn, offer their water to the heavens once more. Thus, our own hard-won understanding, when shared, contributes to the understanding of all around us and will outlive us in some small measure.
I continue to learn, and to be puzzled by the tension between people and peoples around issues of faith, spirit, and what it means to be human. Admittedly, these are among the most intimate issues for all of us. They are intensely personal and yet anchor our communal core, our cultural and social co-existence.
Why then do these issues drive us apart as often as they draw us together?