Sometimes I live so internally I have gentle nudges to be here, instead of off in that place in my mind, examining, wondering, dreaming. I can sit in a room full of people and be there but not really there. The more conversation weaves around me, the quieter I become, watching, thinking.
One night recently I sat cross-legged on a couch, enjoying the warmth of chatter around me and suddenly it occurred to me.
I am broken. And as sudden this revelation was, it wasn't something I didn't already know.
And there was freedom in the realisation.
And then I opened my eyes wider, and shrugged off distrust as I remembered the verse I'd read earlier;
"Your eyes are windows into your body. If you open your eyes wide in wonder and belief, your body fills up with light. If you live squinty-eyed in greed and distrust, your body is a dark cellar. If you pull the blinds on your windows, what a dark life you will live!"
We're all broken.
Sometimes I find myself being drawn into that dark cellar - the place of distrust, and cynicism and criticism. Do you? That place where Facebook statuses seem to be directed at you, and the lack of contact from certain friends makes you feel like you've been replaced, and slowly you feel yourself building walls up around you? Where squinty-eyes prevent you from seeing what is true, and focusing on what is good - in yourself and others.
We're broken, and darkness is our default mechanism. We want to hide where the blinds are drawn, with blankets over our heads - some days literally.
We're all trying to find our way to a place of wholeness, and we have to know that there are parts of us that won't be completed this side of eternity.
But we can pull the blinds. The same way I do each morning: the blinds are pulled, the light streams in and the indoor plants lean towards the sun.
Purposing to live with eyes wide in wonder, filling up with light.