Our home a tent.
A temporary cover.
That is how a wise one of old describes this gift.
We do not want.
And so we construct systems.
Running from being destitute.
Seeking to create something permanent.
To shelter us.
And we pool our resources.
Into governments, Churches, corporations.
And we trade our soul.
So we may have an address.
So we can boldly say, ‘we are this … he is our leader … we are in … they are out …we are right … they are wrong.’
Sheltering our vulnerable being from the harsh sun in the shadowy darkness of illusion.
Along 礼品之路 ( Lǐpǐn zhī lù ) I am learning to embrace the gift of being destitute.
Without home or earthly shelter.
For every shelter’s price is to move my hope.
From our Creator.
To a creature.
To safety in numbers.
From love & grace & kindness.
To control & rule & compliance.
May you & I see this gift.
May we become free.
Not members of this Church or that party or citizens of this country or that one, or consumers or semi-fake hippies.
May we be beings.
Flourishing in the gift of our destitution.