Faith is a concept of trusting that there is a reason, an intrinsic purpose for all of life, that fingerprints were painted onto to each hand with care and consideration, that snowflakes are crafted and not a random work of science, that the leaves of the trees, the spots of a ladybug, the voice of a human is all balanced according to its purpose in this world. Faith is both the strangest and most fascinating aspect of this life. It is a humbling admittance that we, as humans, don’t have all the answers. There are aspects of this world that we will not understand. We can’t understand because we lack the ability to see past what is right in front of us. Unless we stop. Unless we pause and take time. Take time to sit with the inconceivable and allow the mystery of this existence fall like a breath of fresh air over our anxious bodies. It’s humbling to admit to not knowing, to leave the unknowable unknown, to believe that there is a force larger than yourself that can take care of the details and that all you have to do is listen.
Listening, what a strange and foreign task for a society so consumed by achievement. Where is the time to sit and do nothing? Where is the space? What is the point? Nothing won’t offer anything, except a wonderful peace only seen by those who touch it. You can’t touch peace without a pause. You can’t pause without making room. Life is never too busy for what we learn to prioritize. What we seek and value, we will make time for.
I set my alarm for 5am every day. Not every day am I able to peel my tired body out of bed. I fight demons that are unseen and commonly leave me paralyzed in the early hours of the morning. But, I set that alarm and I fight my hardest to move into the cold morning air, to light the candles, to sit, to do nothing when there is no one awake and the world is still dark. I find space where others claim there is no space at all. It is in these empty hours of the morning, the quietness of my steps, the dim light of the candles, and the warmth of my coffee where I find answers. Answers from deep inside of me, from a force that I can’t explain, from a power so much larger than my small mind can comprehend. I find the knowledge that I am not supposed to understand. I am supposed to feel. Feel pulled towards my purpose. Feel calm in the unknowing. Feel convicted in my decisions. The empty morning is the key to my recovery for it offers me the space to sit without demons and finally hear from those kind and comforting parts within me.
In two and a half weeks I am moving to Colorado. People ask me over and over why there, why now, why this and that and around we dance. I answer with vagueness, annoyed with our world’s pressing desire to plan, to know all the answers. There isn’t a formula to the paths that we take. We take them because we are convicted they are true to ourselves. There is no profound reason for my move through the world’s eyes. But, once I put on the lens of faith and I see the move is essential to my purpose. I am supposed to move. I am supposed to continue to explore, to live in new places, to try new things, to meet new people. I find these answers in the empty mornings, but people around me don’t seem to understand. Their doubts are painted all across their faces. I have to turn away, to run back to my quiet space where I am connected with a different dimension of this world. It isn’t about a plan that I understand. It’s about a feeling that is undeniably true to who I am supposed to be.
I will end with this. Faith is trust. Trust is believing. Believing is allowing yourself to let go.
(a poem on faith)
By: Mary Oliver
You might see an angel anytime
and anywhere. Of course you have
to open your eyes to a kind of
second level, but it’s not really
hard. The whole business of
what’s reality and what isn’t has
never been solved and probably
never will be. So I don’t care to
be too definite about anything.
I have a lot of edges called Perhaps
and almost nothing you can call
Certainty. For myself, but not
for other people. That’s a place
you just can’t get into, not
entirely anyway, other people’s
I’ll just leave you with this.
I don’t care how many angels can
dance on the head of a pin. It’s
enough to know that for some people
they exist, and that they dance.