Writing

A photographic journal of my past year.

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This past year has taken me from a naive (okay ignorant) soul who thought she had it all figured out at 22, to a soul who admits she will always, always be learning and that even on her death bed, she won’t have fully grasped it.

It: life, love, God

Closed to open.

A closed fist can’t give, but it also can’t receive. A closed soul can’t truly give and it can’t truly learn. It can be confidence and it can also be fear. Confident in my truth but afraid of everything, failure, debate, ideas. It’s hard to be compassionate, honest, and vulnerable when you’re closed. It’s easy to criticize out of fear, and be incredibly judgemental out of a lack of knowledge perceived as ultimate knowledge.

An open palm can take and give. I can know my hand and who it’s worshipping, but I can also be honest, vulnerable, compassionate, growing. My soul doesn’t have to be static, a set of rules, but a growing giving and taking and learning that’s never done or finished.

I’m not hoping to reach some mystical point of perfection. Perfection is a Greco-Roman ideal, but I am hoping to become more and more open.

All of the law and all of what the prophets had to say can be summed up in loving God and loving the other as much as I love myself. My God said this, and I paraphrased it. This means I should desire to be that inclusive. I can’t be inclusive with a closed fist.

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