A Spiritual Practice.

One day I woke up, in an explosion of sunlight after the longest winter known to man

I felt this intoxicating sense of gratitude and wanted to capture it

In a small way, day by day.

So I bought these sticks of incense and I promised myself to burn at least one a day, even on the bad days.

Especially on the bad days.

I wanted to have at least one spiritual practice a day. Because that’s what happens when you forget God and the wound where your soul used to be needs some soothing.

10 days later I had the deepest longing for love in my home. I needed my love to have a heartbeat.

I needed a love who required oxygen, a being that had feelings and took up space just like me. After much searching and coming to terms with how selfish I really, honestly, truly am, nearly gave up.

But then I ended up with some plants. And then I had some die.

Honestly that really hurt.

But they taught me to try again and again, to water even though there had been death, to invest even though there had been loss, to re-pot even though there’s no hope. After some I realized that this too was a spiritual practice.

Sometimes I get so lonely I only have metaphors to keep me company.

Sometimes I hide myself so well that no one can really see me, at least not the ones who really know me.

Sometimes I have to actively remind myself that the darkness will not eat me alive, that my loved ones love me for me and I’m not a burden in their lives.

I’ve realized over times that those acts, even when I forget to light my sticks, are a spiritual practice.

I realized that sometimes, my plants die because I didn’t know better and that, that is a necessary spiritual experience.

There’s still all this darkness and I don’t know if I’m being tested.

I guess I never realized how important faith is

Which is ironic because it’s something I tattooed on my skin

I’m learning to have faith again, for now I can’t hear, see, feel or smell God.

But through a spiritual practice, maybe God can find me?