Welcome to His House,
A parable of spiritual intimacy,
Written by me,
Chidi Buzur.
This story is a parable,
A spiritual journey told through metaphor,
Inviting you beyond information and into experience.
Now before we begin,
I want to share a brief note about language.
Throughout His House,
God is presented using masculine pronouns.
This isn't because I believe God is male,
But because as a woman I wanted to capture the experience of intimacy with a being whose thought process and essence felt entirely different from my own.
To do that,
I chose the other side of the human duality,
Masculinity,
To represent the divine within the story.
My hope is that regardless of gender,
You hear beyond the words,
Into the relationships,
The longing,
And the love that the story reveals.
Each chapter opens a window into the soul's walk toward the divine,
A walk that moves through symbols,
Emotions,
And revelation.
To fully enter this journey,
It helps to begin not with the mind,
But with the heart.
These moments aren't meant to be hurried or analyzed.
They're meant to be felt.
So before we begin chapter 5,
Pinocchio,
We'll take a few quiet moments together to slow down,
Breathe,
And become present,
Body,
Mind,
And spirit,
So that you can experience the story rather than simply hear it.
Take a slow breath in through your nose and release it gently through your mouth.
Let your shoulders soften.
Let your jaw unclench.
Let the pace of your day begin to fall away.
Feel the support beneath you,
The ground,
The chair,
The earth.
You are safe here.
You are held.
Another slow,
Deep breath in and out.
With each breath,
Let your awareness move closer to this moment.
Closer to stillness.
Nothing to prove.
Nothing to produce.
Just this space to be.
Now imagine yourself standing on a quiet path.
The air around you is calm,
Almost expectant.
Somewhere ahead,
There's a soft light,
A glow you can't quite see clearly yet,
But it calls to something deep within you.
This light,
This call is the beginning of your journey to his house.
Breathe deeply again,
And as you do,
Let go of whatever might distract you.
The noise,
The planning,
The worries,
Or the waiting.
Let them rest beside the path for now.
Whisper inwardly,
I am here.
I am listening.
I am ready.
Stay with that readiness for one more slow,
Deep breath.
Now gently,
Let's begin Chapter 5,
Pinocchio.
One afternoon,
He handed me a large box,
Wrapped in a beautiful bow.
A gift?
For me?
What's the occasion?
I asked.
Open it,
He said,
Smiling.
I untied the bow and opened the box.
Inside was a wooden marionette puppet,
Painted to look like a boy.
A puppet!
How interesting,
I said with questions in my eyes.
I've never seen one of these in real life.
I lifted the puppet from the box,
Holding the control bar in my hands so that its feet danced just above the ground.
Um,
I'm not really sure what to do with it,
I guess.
He smiled and took the control bar from me,
Moving the puppet around.
He showed me how to move the arms and the legs so that it looked like the puppet was walking.
Obviously an expert on marionette puppets,
He showed me how its movements could be made to mimic human movements with careful mastery of the control bar,
Positioned just above the strings.
However,
When I tried,
The strings got tangled together and the puppet just hung awkwardly.
He laughed good-naturedly at my attempts and encouraged me,
Saying that I would get better with practice before leaving me alone with the puppet.
I practiced the rest of the day,
Making it walk around the room,
Making it walk up and down stairs,
Making it appear to hide behind the curtain.
I have to admit,
I did get better,
But I still wouldn't say I was good so much as not horrible.
The next day,
He asked me how it was going.
I was honest about my progress and my frustrations.
I told him that I would start out well,
But the longer I worked with the puppet,
The more its arms and legs would just get tangled in the strings,
And before too long it would be all bound up and I'd have to stop and untangle it.
He thoughtfully listened,
Nodding his head.
Hmm.
Bring me the puppet,
He said.
I went and got it,
Bringing it to him,
Expecting him to show me some trick to controlling the marionette.
You can always do what I do,
He said.
What's that?
Is there some trick?
He smiled,
Took out a large pair of scissors,
And cut the strings.
I stood in shock,
Looking between him and the now-broken puppet.
I dropped to my knees almost without thinking,
Cradling the puppet in my hands.
What have you done?
I said.
What did you do?
I looked at him for answers,
Not really expecting any,
But wanting them anyway.
You are that puppet,
He said.
The more you try to pretend to live through religious rules and rituals,
The more you get tangled,
The more bound up you become.
I don't want a puppet,
Something that I can control.
I want the real you.
I want to cut your strings and set you free,
Not control you like a toy.
I don't want a control bar,
I want your heart.
I don't want you to mimic life,
I want you to be alive.
I held the puppet in my hands,
The strings trailing onto the ground.
Honestly,
I felt a little angry because I had practiced with that puppet all day long,
And now it was for nothing.
I couldn't even show off what little I'd learned.
I don't feel like a puppet.
I mean,
Admittedly,
The rules and rituals can be frustrating,
But they don't rule my life,
I said firmly.
Don't they?
He asked,
Lifting one eyebrow slightly.
You're upset over a ruined puppet because you spent time on that puppet,
And now you don't have anything to show for it.
All yesterday you worked with that puppet.
Why?
Well,
You'd given it to me to master.
I wanted to master it.
I wanted to show you that I'd mastered it.
Ah,
So you expected a result,
A payoff,
A reward of some kind.
I guess.
I expected that you would be impressed and maybe proud of me.
I'm already impressed and proud of you because I love you.
Why did you really work with that puppet?
I thought for a moment before realization spread in my heart like the sun coming up.
I worked with that puppet because you gave it to me and I thought I was supposed to master it.
That you wanted me to master it.
My voice was barely a whisper.
I did it because I thought I was supposed to.
He looked at me,
Saying nothing with his mouth and everything with his face.
Oh dear God,
I am that puppet.
Cut my strings and set me free.
I want to be a real person and not a puppet,
Acting in response to what I think others want from me.
He smiled as he took the broken puppet from my hands and put it on the mantle.
I already have.
You're the one who keeps tying strings around your arms and legs.
Pinocchio was a puppet who wanted to be a real person.
You've been a real person trying to be a puppet.
Let go of being a puppet.
It's time to learn to live as the real person you are.
Let's do it together.
Before we close,
Let's pause a moment to reflect on the story.
As the story settles in your heart,
Take a few moments to notice what stirs within you.
Sometimes we don't realize how many invisible strings we've tied around ourselves.
Strings made of expectations,
Obligations,
And quiet fears of disappointing others.
This story invites you to notice where you might still be performing instead of living,
Mimicking life instead of fully experiencing it.
Let's take a few moments to reflect.
In what areas of your life do you find yourself moving like a puppet,
Acting from habit,
Expectation,
Or obligation instead of genuine desire?
What strings do you tend to reattach?
Old rules,
Identities,
Or expectations that make you feel safe but keep you bound?
How does it feel to imagine those strings being cut?
What emotions arise when you picture living without them?
What might living as the real person you are look like in your daily life?
Let the questions rest gently in your awareness.
You don't need to force answers.
Just notice what rises.
When you're ready,
Take a deep breath in.
And as you exhale,
Imagine releasing just one of those old strings.
Feel your shoulders soften.
Feel your body return to itself.
You were never meant to perform for love or approval.
You were meant to live,
To move,
And to breathe as your authentic self.
Free,
Whole,
And deeply loved.
