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Now That's FUNNY...

Laughter erupted out of me at odd intervals last night, peppered with pauses of wonder, a shy gratitude, a spacious quiet, before then the next giggle. Sitting all alone, probably looking a bit mad with the belly laughter. I called a couple spirit-friends to leave rambling messages of wonder. I even texted an elder from way-back-when in my life with whom I haven’t spoken in probably ten years.


Brian and I had enjoyed a nice tilapia dinner–Jesus fish, we name it when in Israel–a rather disappointing episode of the new Apple series Franklin, even a warmish walk to the preserve close to our home. It was time to settle my mind for the morrow, when I would be speaking to United’s new ThD students for an hour about methods of research, theological discipline. I picked up the copy of my own monograph, Learning in a Musical Key, to remember how to speak more formally as a scholar. I’ve intentionally given that up, for the most part, having tended these last several years to more proximate circle and facilitation work. One of the women from my circling years matriculated for the degree, however, so for her sake, I’m all in. I can hold space for others’ scholarly work quite easily.


As I began to re-read the final methodological chapter of this work from long-ago, the now-recognizable and delightful visceral sensations coursed through my body–a sense of Being Shown Something. Incredible Presence. Or perhaps more accurate, Credible Presence. Deep belly laughter at how good Life is, amidst what a mess we’re collectively making it right now.


The context for the joke is that I’ve been immersed in the final pushes of the manuscript project I mentioned–a rather memoir-esque articulation of awakening, holy rage, sacred bewilderment, intergenerational-ancestral woundedness and healing, the freedom I now know beyond forgiveness. I’m finally writing for me, to make sense of an excruciating journey into deepest abundance and wonder. It has had it’s way with me, to be sure, taking its own time and shape in structure, flow of the narrative, flow of the argument (if ‘argument’ is even the right word). In one sense, I’ve been writing this for about two years; in another, I’ve been writing this for well over ten years. It has felt so ancient yet so new. Like I’m finally on the cusp of becoming what and who I came into this world to be. Harvest. Completion. Finally saying what I want to say…


Except I already beat myself to the punch. Every freakin piece of what I’m writing today was already in the methodological chapter of my own monograph. In style and terminology required for that genre, that era in my life. But every freakin’ piece


I’ve literally been writing the same book for nearly thirty years. That’s funny


…and somehow wondrous, awesome, persistent, consistent. A story of continuity in what has felt like utter rupture, rage, and then somehow forgiveness.


Surrender into the divine order of things…deepest joy EVER.

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This is "funny" 🙂. It just goes to show that Godde has been with you this entire time, and that She has quite a wicked sense of humor 😂. Kudos, my friend, for having it all figured out, tee-hee 🎶

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