My favorite picture from the graduation weekend, taken by my parents who happened to pick seats almost directly across the aisle from where I ended up sitting. It was a special surprise, and was the signifier that they were now in my space. Once 2,000 miles away when everything was going on out here in the northwest, now right across from me and my entire class at our graduation, witnessing a piece, the end, the culmination of my time at Mars Hill.Surprise would describe that end pretty well. I wasn't expecting anything terribly moving from the ceremony. But it was good. Culminated by Dan's words, speaking of the program, the cost of moving through. It felt like finally those who heard about it got to see first hand, witnessing what Dan had to say. A crowd of witnesses. Validating to say the least. Something so powerful about public witness. I guess that's the opposite of things lurking in the dark, the truth being kept hidden in silence. How good it is, whatever it is, to move into the light, into the presence of another person, another body of people.
And for one of the first times, I felt a unity with my class I hadn't before. And I wonder even now, why didn't I feel this through the program? Why didn't I let myself feel this? (And if I've learned anything it is how I have played my own part in this...) Maybe the cost of the program, the cost of not having things tied up nicely, the cost of difference, the cost of not everyone getting along because that is reality? I don't know, but it felt pretty damn good to end with some sense of communal holding of what was, what is, who we are, what we went through.
And to end, a video from the last scene of the episode of Scrubs that signified this longing to be connected, to really be a part of a group that allows for great play, for great foolishness and acceptance and of course, love. I was in and out of watching the show, but came back in the room at this last part, and it was one of those moments where I instantly know there is something here for me.
It may be outside of reality, it may be nicely tied up, but hope has to take me beyond reality. I can be irrational with hope. No, I must be irrational with hope. I must hope like a fool. That kind of hope keeps me from stale reality, and moves me into a reality that is enchanted with whatever the hell my imagination that needs to dream wishes to dream. My heart needs much more than reality. I am much more than that. I give myself permission more than ever to have the imagination of a child.
"Who can say this isn't what happens? Who can tell me my fantasies won't come true, just this once?" - JD
