Forward to next post: Ex-TSA agent: “We steal from travelers all the time”
From the commonplaces on the front page:
There is at the back of all our lives an abyss of light, more blinding and unfathomable than any abyss of darkness; and it is the abyss of actuality, of existence, of the fact that things truly are, and that we are ourselves incredibly and sometimes almost incredulously real.
—G. K. Chesterton
But what about those times when that abyss is not at the back of one’s life, but rather is opening up unexpectedly right under one’s feet? When one is invited to step into it, and fall like Alice down her rabbit hole?
What does one do when one is, as AnotherQuietOne quite accurately terms it, flailing around in the spiritual wilderness somewhere between “Hallelujah!” and “Holy Sh-t…”?
This is a space for continuing this conversation, and this one. Since it grows out of the Dysfunctional Families threads, some participants may not be their usual selves (but no one should participate under more than one name).
This is not, however, a space for trying to change others’ views for, against, or within. I’m sure we all know what I mean.