Who hopes for what he can see?
July 1, 2011
On Sunday I jumped into the Atlantic Ocean. It was the first time I had ever done that and it was so so salty. I kept laughing and licking my lips and the sun and sand and everything made me feel so small. I love to be overwhelmed. I love to be cleansed. Bring on the metaphors, ocean. I love it all.
Intellectually, I am growing so much. I am learning about ethics, environment, hunger, rights, humans, animals, and prayer. I trust that all of the things I read and learn will eventually find a way to work out in my hands. I want to be a doer and hearer, and lover and listener. This comes through faithfulness to what is on my plate for today. So today I talked to my philosophy class about the beauty and symbolism of coconut oil. I told them what I had read about it and now I will tell you: it is medicine in a bottle. Some people cover their skin head to toe in coconut oil before they go outside. Some people anoint themselves before they dance. Sometimes it symbolizes virginity.
Oil is a beautiful thing. It is a healing, aromatic, mysterious thing. It is one of those wonderful tools of prayer along with candles and rugs and hats and flowers. I like oil because it creates a culture of prayer. A beautiful smell in the physical. A comforting sensation. It seems ancient and foreign in our mechanical world. There is no scientific purpose for covering my hands and head in oil. The same way there is no reason to talk to the clouds. Unless you know that the clouds are full of Glory and guiding you through the wilderness. I am choosing to see the world on the terms of the unseen. All of it.
