Vachon Imagined

From the moment we enter this world—and perhaps even before—we inherit thought.

We carry our mother’s fears and hopes, our father’s beliefs, the stories of those who came before us. We carry their experiences, their wounds, their dreams, their understanding of life.

To spend our lives trying not to be like them is another form of bondage.

It breeds resistance.

It breeds blindness.

For whatever occupies the mind occupies the heart as well. If we are constantly thinking about what we must avoid becoming, we remain tied to it.

This is not wrong.

It is simply something to see.

When fear is not our master and idolatry is not our guide, we begin to notice how easily the mind turns everything into an object of worship. A goal. A relationship. A status. An identity. Even the person we imagine ourselves to be.

The moment we fix our minds upon something and declare, “This is what will complete me,” we place it upon a pedestal.

We turn it into a statue.

Yet under love, statues fall.

Freedom must reign.

Not because love destroys things, but because love refuses to let anything stand between itself and what is real.

All things eventually fall where love is present.

Not the love that says, “Serve me or else.”

Not the love that threatens, controls, bargains, or demands obedience.

That is fear wearing the mask of love.

Love itself asks for nothing.

It does not bind.

It frees.

It frees you to desire.

And it frees you to release desire.

It frees you to embrace your sexuality.

And it frees you to surrender it for something greater.

The movement is the same.

The force is the same.

Only the direction changes.

Outward and inward.

Expression and return.

Yet the nature beneath it remains untouched.

And that nature is what you are.

Perfect.

Whole.

Complete.

Needing no additions.

Needing no approval.

Needing no praise.

Only remembrance.