From a journal somewhere,

There’s one part in Anthem by Ayn Rand that says this-

“We looked into each other’s eyes and we knew that a breath of a miracle had touched us, and fled, and left us groping vainly. And we felt torn, torn for some word we could not find.”

That’s how I feel! I feel like some fact or fundamental standing ground has tipped for me and I can’t go back and pretend I don’t know it anymore. I feel like I can’t believe Christianity is something that is meant to be taken in moderation. I can’t be comfortable anymore because I know that I shouldn’t be.

More than I bargained for at the museum

She sits in the Crivelli room and believes she is acting like she does again. Only, acting like "she does" could be one of two things. She could be finding beauty in something for the sake of finding beauty. Trying to smooth out a piece of ground for herself which no one had yet conquered. Screaming, for the sake of screaming, that she found what they, the world, had missed. When really, she was holding on pedestal a mere stepping stone in the grand scheme of things.

The other option is that this beauty and truth has found her, and she it.

She taps her toes in her shoe to match the rhythm of the rain hitting the ceiling above her head. It makes her claustrophobic and all of a sudden she must close her eyes to breath. Behind her eyelids she finds the Virgin Mary dressed in red stroking the head of John the Baptist while her baby cries in the background She watches the scene as one might who was watching a construction project. The air filling and leaving, filling and leaving her lungs is far more gripping.

She notices after thirty seconds that her body, again, has turned traitor. Her breaths, her simple life-giving necessary breaths have turned traitor.

Find me, her mind is sneaking into the echoing space in her head on the exhale, Find me.

She stands to join the shuffling. Stepping stone indeed.