Driving around my old haunts around Dartmoor with my father, back in 2019, we passed a flock of sheep marked with red spray paint. On those vast moorlands, it seems like a practical kind of mercy – a clear sign of belonging, a way for a shepherd to identify what is his.
But the more I sit with the thought of it, the more I feel like it carries a weight about my own identity. We as people carry all kinds of marks; some are more visible, and others more hidden. Regardless, they answer the same questions. Who do I belong to? Who do I belong with? Who will claim me? Who will keep me?
Belonging is rarely, no, never individual. When we are sealed, we are identified not only by the one who keeps the flock, but also identified with the flock - belonging in both the vertical and horizontal realms.
Driving around my old haunts around Dartmoor with my father, back in 2019, we passed a flock of sheep marked with red spray paint. On those vast moorlands, it seems like a practical kind of mercy – a clear sign of belonging, a way for a shepherd to identify what is his.
But the more I sit with the thought of it, the more I feel like it carries a weight about my own identity. We as people carry all kinds of marks; some are more visible, and others more hidden. Regardless, they answer the same questions. Who do I belong to? Who do I belong with? Who will claim me? Who will keep me?
Belonging is rarely, no, never individual. When we are sealed, we are identified not only by the one who keeps the flock, but also identified with the flock - belonging in both the vertical and horizontal realms.
