Andiamo o aspeto

Quivering nights and rooftop sunrises. Cold bodies huddled together keeping warm with liters of red wine. Damp days, dry skin, dry eyes, and we don’t kiss good bye as I climb the mountain to my house in the morning. Tonight I learned that my bed is devoid of a soul and surely doesn’t miss me when I leave it alone for nights on end. Tomorrow I speak Spanish with a Moroccan man and feign a Mexican competence with a woman from Spain. I hang wet sheets in the afternoon and think about crawling into his later in the night. And they all know I haven’t slept in the house for days, and quietly whisper questions as to why I know my way around his. No one bothers to ask what’s happened. No one asks questions but everyone already seems to have the answers. I discover the inadequacy of the English language to describe the world around me, and we all make plans to dance naked around the fire as some one plays the drums the next time the sun refuses to shine. We gather up withered bodies as the world around us begins to glow and the moon skulks behind mountain tops, quietly slipping through open windows as 80 useless men sleep below us.
This world is strange and beautiful and I’m happy that it’s mine. I say I don’t believe in fate but sometimes I wonder if I’m telling a lie. Random chance has flung me to the far corners of the earth with people who make me feel more at home, more my self, and more free than the “home” I’ve know my entire life. Random chance has brought us all to this alpine village to take more than we could ever give to each other, but letting each of us leave feeling that if we were anymore full our bodies would no longer be able to contain our souls. Random chance has brought us all here to participate in the creation of God in our service to one another, to celebrate love in every capacity, and to live fully into the freedom that this God has given us. I say I believe only in love and choice but I marvel at the same love and choice that has led me to spending months in Prali with Koreans, Slovaks, Brits, Japanese, French, and other reluctant Americans. I wonder at this love and entertain the idea that maybe this love is larger than just my soul, larger than all the souls around me who have made the same choice. I am in awe of the love that has brough me away from all that I “love” to serve other people. Not to serve “the needy” not to serve “the poor” but serve humanity. To serve it blindly in recognition that each of us should serve another and deserve to be served by those around us, that rich and poor can serve one another and be equally valued in the moment of divine manifestation. My service is no more valuable than another’s and my participation in divine reality is no more impressive than anyone else’s. I believe in love and choice, and weary souls who gladly restore themselves by giving pieces of themselves to the sacred humanity that surrounds them.