"Creation Primordial Chaos," Judy Racz. Oil on canvas
It is a widely accepted phenomenon that out of chaos comes new creation. At least that's how I find comfort amid the seemingly endless cycles of life. For me, the struggle for identity in this world has often been fraught with "peaks and valleys," that permeate the ordinary. The fact remains, however, that creation--even ex nihilo--stirs about constantly. The birth pangs, the tumult, and the pain are all part of the process. Who said new creation was pleasurable? Creation, as we know it, is forever on-going, moving in a dance towards its final fulfillment. Until that glorious day, we face our tombs each day. Resurrection, albeit painful as the predessory death was, still affords us hope.
The quietness of my blog lo these past few months has given me ample time in my own "tomb." Dark were the days as I swirled about, blowing through chaos like it was only natural to endure. Enduring one's death is not a badge of honor to be worn proudly. And now, I can safely say, that the vastness of the heavy stone door is yielding, something new is about to emerge. New but scarred; alive but keenly aware of death. Perhaps that's the idea.
While there's absolutely no use in spilling one's soul via the internet, suffice it say that I'm alive and well. I'm emerging and finally creating again.
Just last week I spent some time with a dear old friend of mine, a Roman priest who has watched me grow from afar. The power of the sacrament of Reconciliation was the medicine required for my soul--grace worked as it has since the beginning. Father Joe, never shy with his prayers, helped me break through that damn stone door. Thanks be to God. And now we look ahead...to paraphase T.S. Eliot, we return to the beginning and know the place for the first time.