People who make God claims, often present themselves as pure or as freshly bathed examples.
I can not. I still wear my cilice (proverbial) from the journey.
Perhaps, in later iterations of my story, I will elevate to the level of pious example, but for now I still have some dirt.
The complete story, requires honesty and not all pitstops were for pious reasons. On the other hand, how does one really know if they can trample on snakes and scorpions unless they’re out where snakes and scorpions are.
I’ve witnessed the chiralityChirality /kaɪˈrælɪtiː/ is a property of asymmetry… More of the universe, and went back through because I wanted to see the other side.
Therefore, it’s important to destroy any possible halo effectThe halo effect is a type of cognitive bias, a shortcut our… More immediately. It’s difficult to communicate on a honest level with people clutching their pearls or moral grandstanding.
This is a journey of a cycle through the light, the dark and back to the light.
Let’s begin with the End.
My Journey Back to Light – The Date with the Poet.
In the story, G.O.D. A Love Story, the Rhema Word came to Queen Seraphina as a vision in the garden. In reality it came on the heels of a VERY bad date.
Before I go on, please take a moment to consider how transformative (bad or good) a date must be for a person to come home and find the Lord.
I was widowed in 2018.
The experience was unimaginable and so was I. So when I decided to start dating again, it wasn’t really terrible at first. Since I was still crawling in the dark with the snakes and scorpions I didn’t notice the distinctions.
I wasn’t seeking a connection, just company. I was always honest about that, I was married almost 21 years. I only wanted people to talk to. To keep my mind occupied while my lost soul tried to find it’s way back to me.
I discovered that ‘de-spousing’ the spirit takes more time than ‘de-spousing’ the flesh.
As I explored, I found that most men had the same approach: Just pretend to be better than the previous guy.
Use of this protocol is so rampant, I believe it’s held as a class somewhere.
Unfortunately, with me this strategy fell flat. The probing questions to discover how my previous man failed, felt very slimy in my case. My husband was a good man. I was alone because he died, not because he was a poor husband.
Without the shadow of the previous guy’s mistake to hide behind, most suitors blew away. What do shadows have to cling to, but other shadows?
So I kept my tunnels closed to visitors.
Then came The Poet.
A few of the shadow men tried the poetry route, but The Poet was the only one with real talent. I was so flattered when he left a signed copy of his book at my door. He was truly talented, nicely built, artistically tormented and even knew a reliable weed man.
Our conversation was oppressively limited to socially conscious racial issues, but he was a bi-racial poet. Too light to be black and too dark to be white. What else would he talk about?
The Poet’s paragraphs in my story practically wrote themselves.
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