Divine Derelicts Love You Anyway.
Divine Derelicts: you never know when someone is going to become one. Some of the most wildish and powerful men and women I’ve ever known, people who intervened on my behalf when I was too young, too confused, too sick or too blind, have been Divine Derelicts on both sides of the ever-interesting good/evil-light/dark debate.
Divine Derelicts will appear on dark and stormy nights; the sky will flash, and they will be upon your doorstep. Like magic. They might have crazy eyes that change color, that harness light, that hold you against the wall of your own exile until you utter the password you didn’t know you knew.
They might be people who curse too much for no good reason, but when they pray for you, heaven’s wings go into wild motion. They are people who are truly mad with life-and-death, all-at-once. Their too-muchness is just enough to counterbalance the scales of true justice inside you. They loan you something you need. They meet you where you are, on the wrong side of the looking glass, strange and beautiful, shadow and light.
They are people who were touched by the gods — real and false alike — and survived it. Any person with true vision could see the fingerprints, the slash marks, the place where the lightening stuck them. They smell like a thundering sky.
They are not gurus who tell you to stare at the sun and deny your own terror. They won’t tell you Love is all there is while you’re being flung across a room by forces most people think only exist in the movies. They don’t run from your screams as the blindness is singed from your eyes. They know who you are in the dark, and they love you anyway.
My Divine Derelicts didn’t look at me: truly feral, mad with grief and loss, barely human, mostly stolen away into netherworlds that never intended to release me, and turn away, claiming my energy was negative. Of course it was. I was in hell. All the stories are true, except the one. Hell is not a destination. It’s a condition. And its eternalness is impossible. There are greater wills at work in the world than these.
Divine derelicts will point a finger at you, not in blame, but recognition. They will name you again, and laugh in the faces of monsters that have held you captive for decades. They will walk through the boundaries of worlds just to comfort your soul.
Divine Derelicts recognize the seriousness of your condition because they understand, with great empathy, what it is to suffer. They understand addiction. They understand madness. They understand what it takes to go from a resident of hell to the corridors of heaven, all in an afternoon, mojito in hand.
Don’t be fooled by consciousness propaganda. In the world of the soul there is only experience, only accomplishment, only greatness and it cannot be measured in quantifiable, earthly terms.
You don’t know who somebody may become. Everybody wears their light-and-shadow differently. Don’t be so quick to turn away. A Divine Derelict might save your light one dark and lonely, red-skied evening.