Dispatch from the Wild Interior: October 21, 2020

Temperance: What would happen if you stood nearly naked in the fullness of your holy contradictions -- the way you are planted and winged, laborer and priest, how you long for the spotlight and invisibility, absolute union and absolute solitude? The sacred is never singular, except in the sense of its allness. What in you have you been told or decided does not belong, must be cut out or cut off, discarded in favor of more pleasant or commodifiable aspects? They’re not gone. They’re blooming around your feet or drifting around your head, waiting for the signal that it is safe to return. How can you make space for them, invite and welcome them home? What does this mean for the whole?