a kingdom built of seeds

Four years ago I left my job at a church and everything changed. I changed.

Fast forward. If you asked me, “What do you believe now?” I couldn’t give you a straight answer. (I hardly know, myself.) And you know what I’ve discovered? That’s okay. Not knowing is okay. Liminality is a very real existential position. Perhaps you know what I mean.

Don’t fight your process of growth and change. Accept it. Embrace it. Run with it. Love it for the wild, unpredictable ride it is.

I think of the scraggly whitebark pines of the rocky mountains, probably some of the last trees you’ll see before reaching the open alpine. They’re necessarily resilient, existing in such a harsh environment. They’re also integral to a healthy ecosystem.

Sometimes that’s what it feels like. Existing in thin air, intimate with your environment, exposed to and unprotected from all experience. The further and higher you go the harsher it is. But if you’ve ever ventured out into the alpine—or into the vastness of the spiritual unknown—you know that it’s also the most beautiful place you can be. There is nothing between you and emptiness—and everything.

I am both more uncertain and more in awe than I have ever been.

Ask me in another four years and perhaps I’ll have some definitive answers. Or I won’t. Either way, I’ll still be enjoying the wandering for its own sake.