Dancing with My Queer Spirit in the Heat-Soaked Summer Days of Texas
All the crowds and cacophony fade away as the bright lights and public performance prayers fade to a dark silence. I am still on a path and solitude is appropriate for the moment. All of this is aided by physical restriction as I heal from reconstructive surgery on my right foot. If ever there was a test of Spirit, it is the forced isolation and sedentary days when my human will is tested by its impotence in the physical world. It requires that I focus on the inner world and truly ‘be here now’ because I can’t be anywhere else.
So I let this fallow time work, reading and thinking, taking in the world and all that I can see transpiring in it. In the silence of my soul, there is no peace. The words in my head are a silent cacophony, a discordant chaos seeking to make sense of a senseless world. On the other side, this jumble of things leaves me without anything to say and no way to say it. I have been intentionally silent.
In the interim, the world has moved and I have watched. An endless recitation, circular in nature, circumscribes the world of our acts creating an echo chamber that amplifies the signal for some, dampens it for others. In the end, it says nothing, means nothing. We shuffle our way through our annual circuit mistaking the tattered, moth-eaten bathrobe of tired tropes and misbegotten beliefs for a polished armor of ideas. If the world is formed from our thoughts, our collective humanity is terribly broken.
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