I’ve been thinking on the concept of Horcruxes the last few days. It mostly happens when I’m packing for home, or weeding my garden, or looking at pictures of my friends.

I think I have Horcruxes. Obviously, Harry Potter mythology tells us that a Horcrux is an object where a witch or wizard has stored a piece of their soul so that they cannot die, but that the only way to split your soul in order you had to committ murder. The act of murder, because of its evil nature, divides the soul and allows one to store a piece of the soul.

I feel as though pieces of my soul are scattered across the country. Part of it is in the couches at St. James. Part of it is in Wesley Hall at Albion. Part of it is in the panhandle of Oklahoma. Part of it is in my classroom. These places are where my soul seems to reside, to be divided between. And what do they all have in common?

They are places where I have experienced great love.

These places safeguard my soul and keep a piece of it safe, so that when the soul residing in my body is down and depressed, those pieces of my soul that reside elsewhere keep me alive, keep me safe. Is it perhaps that Horcruxes can be made by the violation of the soul and its division in murder, but also the expansion of the soul in love? Is it possible there was simply too much love, so my soul put some of it in a place to safeguard it?

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