Illumination

It's amazing, really, how certain settings seem to carry with them a depth of beauty and worth that suddenly makes whatever is taking place feel important as well. This is why i love sunsets, old buildings, and of course, the stars.

That's where i found myself tonight. The last rays of sunlight danced away as we made our way up the mountain, slowly taking the winding dirt road. We weren't in a hurry to get anywhere. It was the setting itself for which we came. Now, having parked the car a few miles back, we had gone on foot, stopping here and there to look either at the city below or the stars above.

They're brilliant tonight, even with the moon as bright as it is. Just being here, looking at them, is enough. It's not that their beauty adds value to us or what we're doing but rather stands as a reminder of the deep, intrinsic worth we already hold inside.

At long last, i look away from the stars and answer Brandon's question.

"I don't know why things began to change. After stepping out of it all, things in my heart slowly began to heal and regrow. I can't point to what caused it."

Brandon didn't respond immediately, but i knew he was listening to every word.

I've spent the past hour and a half (if not longer) telling him my story. If You've never met him, You're missing out. With his quick, full bellied laugh and deep, knowing eyes, he has what seems to be the perfect balance of careless joy yet quiet wisdom and sincerity.

I've told many people my story, but rarely in such depth. There was something about the way he listened that made me feel as though the story i was telling, the story i was living, mattered and mattered deeply. Like the stars, being there with someone who cared about all the details of what i did and why i did it and why i think the way i think, it reminded me that my life was important. That it still is important.

We spent the rest of the evening walking back to the car then driving down to Monument. Somewhere along the way, between the bumps of the divots and the curves of the winding road, the conversation turned to Brandon. As he spoke of his life, he told me not only of his triumphs, but of many of his struggles and failures.

We in society possess such a fear of letting our flaws come to light. I don't know whether it's instinctual or if we pick it up along the way as we grow, but i know of few things we will do more to avoid. We have fears, imagined and real, about how others will respond if they found out the truth of our humanity. Yet, contrary to this, i found that hearing of his flaws only furthered my appreciation for Brandon. It's as though, in seeing he was real, i knew that i could trust the good i saw in him.

How i wish that more of my social interactions were like this. Our time had depth and meaning to it. It was honest and real and the good i took from it seemed tangible. Our goal wasn't to impress the other with a polished, plastic version of our self, nor to convince them that we're something other than the man we are.

In bringing light to our complete, true selves, it wasn't our flaws, but rather our glory, that was illuminated.