Well, the important thing is to journal, to keep on writing. And I have been. Simply not in here. I am up for a bit to sneak this quiet time with my own soul and with God who lives in my soul. It's been a long while since I've posted it on here and we are in the week before Passover, in the mont of the Nissan. Last year and in years before I had theorized that the reason Christian placed the passion around this time, when most people think it happened at Succoth, was because this was the only story they knew that could explain what Jesus did. Passover was the only way they knew to explain what they had experienced. Now, as I have felt many times in the last year sicne finally embracing this life, I have stripped away the middle man. I have entered, sans dealing with a passion and resurrection that I do not udnerstand, into the celebration of the season of our freedom. Clearing for chametz is a long and difficult as I thought it would be. It turns out just to get it out of the kitchen takes three nights, not two.

There is chametz in my soul. Like the cleaning i've had to do under the sink there is clutter and unnecessary shit, unthought out mess, things that have no purpose in me. I am leaving Egypt. What does not belong here? I am leaving the place of my bondage and leaving quickly. What is the mess that is far to heavy and ugly for me to take with me? That I couldn't pick up and take in a hurry if I had to run into the desert, that I could never haul on my fat ass and take into the sea?