I read a poem the other day. The last line was very simple. It was just two words:
It really stuck with me. I can’t get it out of my head. The thing that really keeps going through my mind over and over is the fact that, for something to be resurrected, it has to die first. It follows, then, that, in order to practice resurrection, one would need to also practice dying.
Stuff means different things to different people, but to me this all means something very beautiful. It means that the degree to which I find myself to be experiencing death is also the degree to which I have the opportunity to exercise myself toward allowing resurrection life to rise up within me and become my actual reality.
Maybe I’m just crazy. But, whatever. Crazy has better music.