We’re still unpacking. It seems like it will never end. Boxes get emptied onto most any horizontal surface that will support the contents, that are then sifted through and sorted into: “Throw away;” “Goodwill;” “Find a place to put it.” And “Find a place to put it” is hampered by all the stuff laying around! Every day more and more boxes are put out on the front porch for recycling, and we do see a dent in the stacks, but it just seems never-ending. Will we ever truly be unpacked?

Maybe not. Maybe to be alive is to be continually unpacking of life. When we’re settled in a casket, we will not have to unpack anything more in this life. Until then, things come and go, and we have to deal with them. People come and go and we have to engage with them. Times come and go and we have to relate to them. Always in flux, change as the only constant, each day is a gathering of energy to be expended on unpacking. But what are we unpacking? Is it merely a train of sensations, flowing through us with no residue or effect? That would truly be a pointless existence.

No. We bear witness to significance. As things, people and times come and flow away once again, we notice what truly matters and announce it to the world. For some it will be one thing, for others it will be another, and perhaps the true significance is yet one level deeper where things come together as one and all significance is seen for what it truly is—or maybe even that is to be unpacked deeper still, where all is one in the One, and redemption is complete.

Then borders will be seen as a means to greater humanity, not politics or economics or (worst of all) blind xenophobia.

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