sanctum sanctorum

Chapter 1

I had no plans of going inside the cathedral’s compound but something drew me in. It was midday, and the church staff members were probably at lunch. It was very, very quiet, the place’s stillness only punctuated by the cheeps and trills of birds foraging in the trees that cast their cool green shadows over the compound. I walked around and took some pictures with my phone. The quiet was soothing. Something in me was rousing. I sat down on one of the pews. I had to write something to acknowledge that something awakening within me. In my bag, I found a piece of paper (a loan form) and a pen. I’ll share an excerpt of what I’ve written, as well as the photos I took that day.

Chapter 2

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Chapter 3

02-21-2015

Steeped in the silence of the cool sanctuary, I gradually regain some of the missing pieces of who I am. These days, it is very rare for me to have time to commune with myself. It seems that Life is throwing this bachelorette’s party every day, complete with the compulsory male stripper, the edible glow-in-the-dark undies, the phallic pastries, the booze poured in time to sultry music piped in sync to a picture slideshow of a bride-to-be’s days as a single woman. In this party, everyone laughs, eggs, and hopes (just a teensy bit) that the next day’s bride will just give in to the delicious temptation of well-toned flesh that emerges from a cardboard cake and begins baring every edible part of its anatomy. Nevermind that he probably prefers men, too.IMG_20150227_091635

It’s funny. I’m penning this inside a church. And dim though the interior may be, I can feel the blushes of the terracotta cherubim mounted on the candle brackets.

I ask for forgiveness for this lusty analogy.

I confess I rarely see these thoughts after I’ve turned 30. Today, it seems that I can’t stopper them up as quickly as I want to. Perhaps I am merely nostalgic for the days when I couldn’t care less who saw me while I was drunk and scantily clad–prancing on the beach and begging the Goddess to purify me with the liquid silver of the Moon.

Again, the cherubs blush. So I’ll let these thoughts rest — for now.

But perhaps not just yet. All I know is that whatever vows one takes before the Divine, these will always be remembered.The Gods never forget. And as I sit here, the Gods are helping me remember. The missing pieces of who I am are slowly returning.

And as I end this, a line from Hellboy sidles in.

“You should be running.”

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