When my soul returned to the place from which we come, the others crowded around, as they always do, and begged to know. "What did you see?" they asked. "What did you see?" This is what I told them.
I've seen fathers throw away their children, but sometimes they do not. I've seen mothers love their children fiercely, but sometimes they do not. I've seen a beautiful young girl smile at an eager young boy and terrify him. I've seen a handsome young man smile at an eager young woman and make her blood race. I've seen a man sacrifice his life and it was quick and brief and violent and glorious. I've seen a woman sacrifice her life and it was slow and long and difficult and beautiful, because a man will die for another, but a woman will live for them. I've seen mercy forsaken in the markets and courts, but manifested in back alleys and dark rooms. I've seen too much sun and too little rain. I've seen too much rain and too little shelter. I've see too much shelter and too little compassion. I've seen kindness stored up in vessels while people die in the streets. But I've also seen hints and heard whispers of a coming day, when kindness and mercy will be poured out from every doorstep. It will flow down into the low places, bearing us up like a mighty, rushing river, carrying us down to the sea and home.
"And when? When is that day?" they asked.
"I do not know, but not today," I replied. "Certainly not today." And then, though many souls like to wait and to rest and to consider, I turned immediately, and dove back in.
Hello friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
