Mereja Forum

[teodroseIII]

We live in a time of global tribulation where humanity is being swallowed up by economic inequalities, a politics of resentment and a zeitgeist of separatism. Add on top of this a pandemic that has taken our sense of community—the one thing that mends broken spirits—and isolated us behind masks and social distancing, we are withdrawing into ourselves while clinging to our phones. Our abilities to connect in person being curbed by the fear of infections and the risks posed by a clandestine plague, we self-medicate by binging on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. We are staying connected virtually while we lose connections with friends, family and neighbors in reality.

I don’t write these things to sink you further into anguish but to offer this nugget of hope while we are stuck in the midst of a global crucible. I know from first-first hand experience that the darkest moments—the times where depression is the one reliable friend that consoles and solitude becomes our soundtrack—are the wombs from which joys are birthed. It’s like bringing a child into this world; after nine months of morning sicknesses, restricted movements, nausea induces by arbitrary aromas and the excruciating pains of delivery, all pains are forgotten when a mother holds her newborn child in her hands.

I’m not preaching to you in theory but from a place of a lived reality. Four years ago today, I was residing at a community called Harvest Farm in Wellington, Colorado where I worked full time in the kitchen as a “chef” feeding over 67 fellow broken souls. Gone was the six figure salary I was raking in in 2014, all the sudden I was making a stipend of $7.00 a week. I’ve written occasionally about my two year odyssey that...continued...

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