Radical hope

“Where do we see creatio ex nihilo in the human being? It is here, in radical hope.” — Joy Phillip

What would your treasured ones want for you?
I wouldn’t ask myself that.
“Maybe they want you to live.”

Maybe time doesn’t heal your wounds fast enough, but the pain becomes easier to live with. You got your life. Maybe they want you to live. Let go. The you now isn’t the you back then. Who you were then isn’t the you now. How does one heal from survivor’s guilt?

Choose each day to live. Doesn’t have to happen all at once. Won’t expect it to. But slowly, surely, gradually, living. And doesn’t have to be a big, grandiose reason. Small steps, foot by foot, one in front of the other. Can be a single step. Time will heal all wounds. Won’t do it fast, but as the wound heals, it becomes easier to live with. A scar could remain, but that’s all it’ll be.

That’s why I’m happy to see butterflies. There was a story she’d read to me, one about a boy and a girl and butterflies. I like to think she sends me butterflies from where she is now. Like how the Aboriginal woman I met in Crisis Respite said feathers were from my grandfathers.

Raven; you stayed as Dove fled. An olive leaf meant dry land, the rainbow meant radical hope. After the Flood, the grand performance heralded the new morn.

Creatio ex nihilo.

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