Fighting gravity

I’m noticing something… The more I age, the harder it is to stay upright.

Gravity has a way, over time, of smooshing us into the ground. Our spines start to curve in. Our bellies bulge out from the pressure. Shoulders start to slouch.

The earth is fighting like hell to reclaim us. 

We’re like old detached garages covered with vines, our shingles mangled by the wind. The relentless elements peel our paint off. Ants and other minuscule crawling creatures gnaw away at our interiors turning our foundations into dust. 

Life is, by its nature, a rebellious act in the face of death and decay. And then, we are reclaimed by the ground that we came from. Our last borrowed breath being given back to its Source.  

Faith is a rebellious notion that can only come from outside of our human rational intellect. It’s a profound trust in the unexplainable knowingness that death, though its sting is real, does not have the last word. 

Wow… Sorry about being so morbid here. It must be Lent.

Oh, crap. I’m slouching again.

As Ever,