Creative Soul June 2013

*A note before you read this. After doing an audit of my blog in 2022, I have decided to leave content that speaks to the Christian I was at the time this was written. I no longer identify as Christian (and haven’t for a very long time.) I chose to leave these posts because it is who I was then and it is important to me to be honest and true with every iteration and evolution of self that I experience. I may decide to add comments to the end of posts like this as well

Time limit: 20 minutes, handwritten, non-stop writing
Prompt: (I should’ve written it down but I didn’t) Something about being in the dark and finding light (the theme for the retreat was “Bloom Towards the Light”

So. Here it is. My 20 minute, writing non-stop, handwritten, unedited piece.


In the dark I find comfort.

Not seen.
Not found.

The mess is hidden. Oh sure, I trip over the garbage but if I fall–you can’t see it. I’m not fat in the dark. I’m not sick in the dark. I’m whatever I want. Because I can be.

You can shine a flashlight into the black hole and I’m ok with that because your little light won’t ever be bright enough to see what I’m hiding.

Going towards the light means exposing the ugly. And trust me–you DO NOT want in here. But then–you are human and you only know what you know and your vision is limited by your experience and your experience is not my experience. And you, being human, superimpose your story on top of the one I’m trying to tell. And no matter how hard you try–it will always be that way.

But God presses in and his light His light is not like yours. He blasts light so bright it consumes all of the ugly. And He moves away

leaving me in the dark again. {pause} I start to trip less. I’m less afraid of exposure. He shines it in again and again and retreats after each time time

light like night and day
like awake and sleep
He cycles or I orbit and turn on my axis. I have seasons. I realize I no longer care to be in the dark and I bring him pieces of the ugly.

It is then that my little seedling self pops up through the rich dirt fertilized by the shit of my past.I defy them by the cycle He created. The waste product of my life is the very thing that determines my growth.It pushes me up and feeds me.By design–He created me to be nourished by those things.

I will grow.
I will bloom.
I will fade.
I will die.

In this life.

He will scoop me up and transplant me into the eternal garden.

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