A Xenolith is a (beautiful) rock fragment that is actually foreign to the igneous rock in which it is imbedded. These lovelies get melded right in…embraced if you will…in the hard and mundane yet exuding their glory and sparkle with strength.
That is the picture of the betrayed…the broken…the abused…the destitute of spirit. Covered in the package of hurt, continuing to move through life looking bland and ordinary, we are stunningly beautiful in our core. That outer wrapping is foreign…it is the inner place that is authentic. We have received the worst of what humanity has to dole out, and we have survived. We were promised love and devotion and got manipulation and abandonment, yet we hang on and keep believing and hoping, whether in this person or another or in ourselves. That place, that incredible amazing place that somehow stays alive despite all odds that is wrapped in the layers of our being is nothing short of miraculous beauty. Like a xenolith.
And that human xenolith…we are also xenacious. Xenacious people yearn for change…deeply desire things could be different and don’t stop trying. That is a characteristic I find nearly uniform amongst people with deep wounds…
We want things to be different.
And we are willing to be part of the change.
Xenacious xenoliths are courage.
Xenacious xenoliths are badass.