The whole is equal to the sum of all its parts

I am not whole. I never will be, until I am face to face with my creator. The struggling to realize the metamorphosis I have embarked on, brings on a stark reality to my current condition. Small character flaws that haunt me, and tug at the very core of my being. Things that plague my everyday life. I am being made whole, but to this point, I only see the holes.

Many times, I wish life was a etch-a-sketch. Being able to shake away the imperfections that I have seemingly made of it all. I find that the areas I once excelled at are now the areas I struggle with the most. Reflecting on a recent tweet by Cornel West: “Where there is no death, there is no life”, I am struck with the stark reality that certain areas of my life must die before there can be any life brought to it. This is the end picture, the sum of all my parts. They must be brought together before the whole process is complete. I have not sought to become complete. I have brought to life areas once dead (or assumed they were dead), and have neglected to put to death areas that need it. I ramble, due in part because I do not know the true outcome of what I am trying to conceptualize, but I know I am in need of constant restoration.