“Something big is about to happen. We’re meant for something greater than this,” my roommate and I tell each other in our small Brooklyn apartment – a place of hurt and healing, a place of waiting and wanting, a place that would propel us onward to the next chapter. We wait and push for our destinies to happen. Months pass. Hearts break and heal. Our souls are destroyed and rebuilt. Every ending has a new beginning.
I spent 13 months in our small Brooklyn home. It doesn’t seem like much, but it’s the longest place I’ve stayed in the United States without packing everything and moving. My restless soul fears stability and uncertainty. My aching heart desires home and change.
I used to travel to run away and find fulfillment elsewhere because I felt empty. I didn’t know who I was. I hated myself. Now, I can care less about seeing a new city and finding all the tourist attractions. I barely explored LA this summer, and I haven’t seen more of SF in the last 2 months.
My soul craves for human connection on a deeper level – to join my Light with my siblings’ Light here and around the world. That is where I feel God’s presence the strongest – when the Light, Love, and Beauty within us connect. I see God’s image in those around me, and my heart breaks when others suffer. Are we not united by our Creator’s Love? Why don’t we act that way?