PROFANITY

Natalie LaRon in white shirt 3

... I am old enough to share my process without cringing. You remind me of the discovery I made of the powers laying within dark words. First discovered at 18 years of age, and later well into my thirties was a side to my relationship with God, the Creator I had never known existed.


"In the deepest agony of my soul mourning loss, in agony over a sense of not belonging, and finding my heart song out of harmony with the women I loved deeply my soul leaped to places unfamiliar to me. I would walk, sometimes, for miles and miles with tears streaming down my face and beyond my capacity to be articulate, or clear my prayers fell into profanity. Uninhibited by social restraint, or the church teachings I grew up with, or the admonishments of my parents dark profane words spewed out of the core of my being. They were thick like molasses, odious, and hard. They were prayers. They were my why questions. They were the winged creatures of pain my soul unleashed into the atmosphere, and the sphere of sacred space that was wherever I walked.

To discover that God, the Christian God did not kill or condemn me came to my consciousness with a son’s gratitude. The rewards from those traumatic days were literally out of this world. The things I received from the Creator to make me stand upright in my place was the stuff of legend, and myth! Apparently, there is strength and reward in honesty!" - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories

fire cupped in hand - Judith Kusel