All the old men in the church were very dignified.
Think about that quietly, softly, long and hard for a while. (Perhaps while on your knees). Such was their right, to be so dignified. They had earned it through age, won by experience. They had lived long enough to not need to be impressed with you and your youthful extravagance. Or as the women of the church harshly, buzzingly assured you, you played your part in making sure they weren’t distracted by such noisome colorfulness. Imagine being on earth so long and seeing so much, only to achieve the ultimate prize of not needing to be interested in anything new. It blew Crystal’s mind.
It had her fuming when she fell under those neglectful eyes, Sundays in the summer with her StepFather dropping her off to attend church on her own. To be judged as one walked to profess one’s belief in an eternal father, by a long line of sturdy implacables. Infuriating, but bubbling up in her a beehive of exhuberance in an unpounded chest, ready to burst with excitement at the chance to run away from them. After… doing her time there. Strategic bondage, in a way. A voluntary imprisonment that made anxiety a sacred drink, which she tasted accidentally and now latched onto superconsciously as a calling. And how the silence and meditation made her serene in the wilds of the cagey world at large!
In the presence, sense was made, it felt to her, firsthand. And how she would rush from that scene… From the penance of shared communion with the vanity of alternate authorities… the old men who claimed vantage to her eyeline on her insight… She would burst out the doors like a heart valve disinternalizing the meaning of the partaking of the incarnation, like a scream down a highschool hallway… Exploding! Back into the truth of her truth, known! All along, able once again to be told in her way. Clean of bullshit, annunciated overwith the crucible’s crumbling ember heartache.
That was the reason every time she left worship service her tongue always seemed to be dripping with honey flavors of new plans, and stories to tell about the world to come. She was enflamed, and her heart was cooked well.