Tuesday, February 14, 2012

the father the son and the holy secrets.

San Juan, Puerto Rico is the first city I have ever travelled to that I would refer to as a woman.
She (San Juan) is magical and powerful, there is a lure there that is undeniably female.

As you wander thru its narrow, colorful streets. paved with 14th century Spanish bricks you are immediately embraced and held close to a bosom that feels like a mother, a grandmother, a keeper of memories, a keeper of history, a keeper of secrets.

The town squares, shadowed by their ancient Cathedrals, make a soft, safe haven to sit and listen, a place to feed pigeons or to hear the sounds of children.
The church bells take you back in time, you can close your eyes and imagine that you have been there forever, that regardless of where you are from, you are home.

My days in San Juan were nostalgic.
It is the land of my Father and his Father before him.
It is a land I had never known since the men I just spoke of were unknown to me as well.

Unknown to me until now.

This trip to San Juan was not just a chance to explore, it was time for a reunion, with a Father I barely knew and a Grandmother even more distant to me than he.

I had expected to be moved, I knew my existence, as I had come to love it, was about to be changed forever.

I had opened my heart as wide as I could to allow love and healing to enter.

The amazing thing about having a heart that ready to receive is that it allows for other like hearts to really give.

The things that my Father shared with me would start me on a journey I could have never been prepared for.

My life will never be the same, a set of new truths have been revealed that will guide me in a new and uncharted direction.

I have always said you never know the true color of a man's blood until he has been cut.

Life and it's secrets can be very, very sharp.

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