“May the sanctuary of your soul never become haunted.”
The words clung to me.
They are taken from an old Celtic prayer for belonging .
Belonging.
Is this concept even intelligible to me? Is belonging something that can truly be offered, accepted and obtained? The word itself is haunted with memories of half-truths and good intentions. And I pray for it, nonetheless.
From what source does this desire for belonging spring? The boundaries of our skin separate us one from another, but we long to be connected in our deepest places. Is a good prayer one that requires miraculous intervention, or one that can be realized, actualized by ourselves and those around us? How do we clear the cobwebbed thoughts and creaking memories from the sanctuary of our souls? What light can penetrate the ghostly apparitions of the past, the forgotten dreams, the cold reality of the darkness, the unknowing, the haunting...
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