*1There are a *lot* more of you here after the past few weeks so I wanted to take a second to greet you. I am a musician, runner, theologian, and scholar interested in Black theologies, Black disabled bodies, and constructing a masculinity that is grounded in softness. Every Sunday I try to write one of these restful musings as a way to offer a place of refuge and thought going into a new week. I feel that I have accomplished my mission when at least one person is able to take my words and crawl up in them for peace and comfort. On the paid side of things I try and offer at least one or two posts a week on everything from comics to poetry to theology. (Or all the above) Thank you all for being here*
“At some point in life the world's beauty becomes enough. You don't need to photograph, paint, or even remember it. It is enough.”
― Toni Morrison2
Life has been busy lately. In so many ways pressing on me uncomfortably as I try to multitask my way into productivity and happiness. Each day trying my best to keep up with work tasks, schoolwork, personal growth, and more. I’ve been failing. Horribly so. And in this place I took some moments to reflect. Reflection is a reminder and a signpost that signifies where I’ve been and where I am going.
I posted this recently on Substack notes and was so surprised by how many people seemed to resonate with my words. I can’t determine what it is that has moved people so much as they continue to share their own reflections in the comments, I can only say that I wrote it from the heart. I have lived a hard life. One that has had more tears than I can count. One where the bad days outweigh the good. I truly mean that. I can’t diminish the pain that I’ve been through.
And.
I’m in awe of simple things. Being able to eat every day is something that I am grateful for. Having shelves of books makes me cry often. Weekly I buy myself flowers to remind me that life is worth living. (If I don’t buy myself flowers…who will?) And even if nobody else can see how far I’ve come…I do. The shy, awkward, chubby kid who stuttered has fashioned for himself a life that he’s proud of. I didn’t get here on my own however. I have had help. Encouraging words. The people who told me that I was a writer. Money for food. In fact, I think of a couple who committed to helping me get through my Master’s program by buying all of my school books for the first year. I couldn’t have made it here to a PhD program without their help. No person can navigate life alone. Even when we try. This life is simple but it’s all mine.
“Make up a story... For our sake and yours forget your name in the street; tell us what the world has been to you in the dark places and in the light. Don't tell us what to believe, what to fear. Show us belief's wide skirt and the stitch that unravels fear's caul.”
― Toni Morrison
I hope this week is kind to you and that you are able to see how far you’ve come. Maybe you haven’t felt the sting of lack like I have, but there are beautiful things to notice today. One thing that helps me cultivate gratitude is to delete my text messages every week. I know that sounds strange but I delete the good and the bad. The frustrating. The business texts. They all must go so that I have space to receive new things.
“And I am all the things I have ever loved: scuppernong wine, cool baptisms in silent water, dream books and number playing.”
― Toni Morrison
Beautiful hearts deserve beautiful landings.
props to you if you can catch the song reference in the title ;)
I have been sitting with Toni Morrison’s words deeply and so you will catch a few strands of them throughout this post.
Thank you for this Sunday morning, pre-church “church” 💝
I’m one who just subscribed yesterday, after reading the post you included in this one. For me, the thing I found/find so moving is the ‘AND’. As in, your life has been hard AND you feel gratitude, hope, beauty, and reasons to go on. This is so needed in today’s crazy messed up world. Thank you! May you continue to be blessed and keep shining your light. 💖
Your substack title grabbed me.
May God break my heart so completely the whole world falls in. ~ Mother Theresa
Today it's 7 years, 5 months, 18 days since the medical examiner closed my wife’s eyes and gently slid the sheet up over her face.
I’m broken, but if you met me, you wouldn't know it. I laugh and smile and work hard just like anyone else. But if we talked about life and death and holding Jesus's hand through the dark valley, you’d notice that my eyes fill with tears and I have to stop talking every couple of words.
I cry at the drop of a hat. It's not that I'm sad, it’s that I lost my armor — I’m raw to the pain and joy in the world. The funny thing is, I like myself better this way. I’m more compassionate, less arrogant, gentler, and willingly drop everything when someone needs me. I see God’s power pour through the pieces of my broken heart into the lives of the people around me. It makes me wonder if there really was any room for him before.