Stripped and naked

I went into Goderich today for a meeting (only my second time since the tornado), and was struck by the barrenness of the land.  Words like naked, exposed, and vulnerable kept repeating in my head.  So many lives affected by this devastation.  Homes stripped of roofs, rooms blown open and now offer a glimpse into somebody’s past.  Do the previous occupants care that we see into their former sanctuary…if it was.

The paring away of layers, a forced excision where the hosts had no fore-warning…or did they? How many people whose lives have been dramatically altered will stand exposed before they rush to cover themselves from prying eyes?  Their own.  Will they grieve their loss?  Will they cry, sleep or lash out in anger?

Into the world we are delivered bare, innocent and eager to draw breath.  Our eyes soon, eagerly search for understanding.  Our bodies crave touch, and our primordial voices enter into existence.  Our ears keen to sound.

How long the road that has delivered us from ourselves.  How is it that we have encouraged our habits to form in ways that take us away from who we really are?  When did we lose the innate joy of being naked?

In Jewish, Islamic and Christian religions, the first humans were Adam and Eve.  As we are told, life was perfection until they ate from the tree of knowledge, the forbidden fruit.  I have a thought:  maybe original sin was not about the apple, but about the leaf.

Is it not part of our very fibre to take what we know to be true and apply it to our lives?   Living consciously.  What if the very act of covering ourselves is the sin?

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