I wrote a few days ago that in my a recent email to Laura I had asked the following: “How does a person have faith in the face of so much...history?”
And Laura responded with the following:
“Have faith. Hold it. Practise it, for no other reason that you’ll need that practise further down the line. Hold its coattails if you must, but hold it nonetheless. It is in service of a something, and it is none of your - or my - business as to what that something is.”
I love that idea--of holding to the coattails--because it’s so true. Sometimes faith and I are sloppy-mouth-kissing on the couch, and sometimes we’re standing right next to one other looking out over some exotic vista, and other times I’m trailing behind, holding its coattails. Because that’s life.
So that’s the practice now. Turning towards it, staying open. Uncrossing my arms. In the face of doubt and fear and all of the things that feel bigger-than, softening and inviting life in. With the small belief that faith is the thing--not a means to an end--but the thing itself.