Dear Hashtag

Gratitude:

The soul, when identified by gender, would claim the word "it" - therefore it has no label and "it" belongs to God.

 

Presence:

INHALE: My soul...

EXHALE: belongs to You.

(repeat as many times as needed)

 

Awareness:

Dear God -

 

Today, I again cast my lingering shadow. Comments begin arising from beneath soul's engulfing hollow.

 

Can placing myself in front of scorned words release her bound soul? Is this even possible? What if I am positioned as an army to bind words: #threemen, #onewoman, #twelveyears? Would the accumulation blockade pain behind that sweet taste of freedom?

 

Why must I be the one to engrave this soul? Does the stain of my crossbeams offer any measure or weight? Is one blemish easier to scrub clean than two? Three easier than four? What if you have lost count? The burden I bind is unbreachable!

 

Provide for me the ability to take this tagged pain and permit space for healing. Or is the filthy to remain buried? What do you do with unknown secrets other than ask me to hold tight to them and whisper their existence? Do her yells pierce hungry air or continue echoing into silence's gluttony? 

 

-Hashtag

 

Conversation:

It usually begins here. Some word, some post, smell, or song awakens memory and drags us back beneath the depths. This letter represents that place within your soul. From here, we scream, cry, and despise labels, yet we, ourselves, identify our passions, desires, hates, and loves with them. We respond with little effort, begging them to speak loudly on our behalf. They stab us with their retaliating daggers anchoring words we only long to capture. Have they become our labels of wanting and need? Think for a moment about a hashtag that upset you. Why? What emotions are enslaved between its crossbeams?

 

What words do you bind to hashtags today? Let the first ones that come to mind, pass by; dig deep. Allow emotion to seek, pluck, and guide to the surface those that might reside unsettled within.

 

Now, write them down. Read aloud the letter again from this place. We place these bound soul-laden cries behind hashtags to gather recognition- approval - listening ears - company - ___________________________. 

 

Who or what do these words label? Who do they speak to? How does writing them make you feel? Does reading from their point of view provide relief, pain, comfort, joy, despair? What do they offer others? Give whatever they are - whatever they hold - to God. Do not worry if they are harsh - if you are mad, be mad! I can shout them or type them countless times! It is not until I pull them from their hashed crosses and surrender them to His hands that what they bind is released.  

 

Listening:

Dear Hashtag,

I've yearned to speak with you;

so many bound souls respond

to the words you hold.

 

Let Us begin, 

to try to locate My love,

but much of what you speak

oozes buried filth

from cuts deep.

 

You ask whispered understanding,

to plunder will from your hands?

Oh, I cry - the soul trapped in being alone

only ever awaits a thief's demands.

 

Never saw Me nor heard My voice?

NO - of course;

for it is upon you

lies and deceit thrive among moment's rejoice.

The mind thinks you offer strength;

but how?

You are trapped to making a fleeting point.

Let go -

Let Me mold and caress labeled swords;

together, My beloved soul,

WE can return her blemished truth.

 

#God

 

Lingering:

Neither Gandhi nor Mother Teresa led us out of the human dilemma. (Mythical Path, Rohr) It makes no difference if it takes on the appearance of politics, race, religion, sex, gender, or any other label you want to include. Like Jesus, they led us directly into it and agreed to carry it with us. (Rohr) It is the radical choice to put complete trust in God - see yourself the way God sees you. (Path to Holiness, Thomas) For IT is His Pure, Beautiful, and Beloved Creation! 

 

Dwell here, knowing you are found.

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