“Always coming home.”

H,

We are always on our way home. We will arrive at some point, but we are not there yet. We are in the process. This is such an important point that it always needs repeating. Progress cannot be measured in the usual sense. It will not look beautiful and then more beautiful. There will be pitfalls and fall backs. It cannot be measured in forward steps or backward steps. We are taking steps, and this is all we know.

 

We are all cracked vessels holding in holy water. It is seeping through but home keeps pouring in more. It is like we are learning everyday how deep human failure is. We are learning the particular context of our own failure. The white-washed version of human growth does not speak to the various colours between white and grey and black and everything else in the human soul.

 

The only thing that keeps this thing going is that we have an idea of home. We are looking toward the light every day. We are trying to become these real selves we hear rumours about. We want to be better. We want to live up to principles we think make up the foundations of the universe. This is our home. Being the kind of person who can create only life and never death. Being the kind of light that gives true context to the meaning of everything.