Last year, a little after this time, I believe God called me to strip away most every soft piece of flesh from my bones... I wrote about being asked to prune the tree of my life too fast and too deep. God didn't think so. I think I am in the process of returning the favor.
I found every comfort of my life falling away, my music, my singing voice, my friendships, my future expectation of a roof over my head, promises made to me by loved ones, hopes and dreams, ... and I began to learn to ask less of life, ask nothing of life.
Looking back, well, in some cultures the dead are left to dry for a year before burial. Cleansed, down to the bones... the pristine remains are laid in the grave, ready for eternity.
Well, God... all the myth and beauty which I was raised to see when I considered thee, even in the stark simplicity of Quakerism, the gentle image floating over the gathered meeting, the sweet stories and pretty pictures, the dreams and the flesh, I strip away from thee, to confront thee as best I can, ready for eternity, the stark emptiness of eternity before and after time and energy and form... everything and nothing at all - thee becomes you to me.