I've been wearied from the weight of holding up a faith that my body is too shaken to firmly clasp. The kind of faith that stands as the last house in a hurricane. Or the firefighter that emerges from the door frame of a building in flames.
I've been beaten by the lash that says my unstable faith is lazy, whiny, and unacceptable of an enlightened being.
I am no stranger to the roiling emotions of anger, doubt, fear, jealously, bitterness, and frustration.
Throughout my life I've struggled to obtain some elusive sense of perfection. The kind that never errs, refrains from maladaptive patterns, knows everything, and is always joyful and kind. Even though it is impossible for any human to be infallible, some would make it seem as if that's within reach. This is particularly true in religion and spirituality where there can be a pressure to be impervious to suffering. But, that's a lie.
I've tried to be the unshakable fortress. But, even fortresses can burn and fall from a million fissures and cracks.
All that I know for sure is that if my spirit gets broken, it will be repaired. If I fuck up, I will take accountability for it. If I don’t know, I'll get the answer at the right time. And if I fall, I have support above and right here to lift me up.
That's my kind of faith. The kind the honors the complications of being an incarnate person.