Nearly a month since I’ve posted here! That’s what the blog dutifully logged, anyway. That creature it’s referencing, a month ago, isn’t me. It’s blurry, distant.
Yet not much has “changed with me.” Ever onward, my bundle of shifting relationships hasn’t changed in size or character. There’s still the long-standing habits. Behind all that, though, a temporal mirror ripples every act outward. Each wave has slight evolution of form as the sound reverberates back and forth on the canyon walls. The mirror, and things in it, sometimes shudder with their past and future.
Did you see, a bit ago, when everything brought its consciousness into the present like faces pressed against windows? Have you noted this astonishing, repeating flood of miracle? In the flood, the windows seem to dissolve. But then everyone somehow retreats back into themselves. Every time we emerge, we are new. Each is a new creature each day.
The nights are deep and dark, and the days seem sometimes to soar.
Even health arises and subsides in this way, have you noticed? Just now, my body is taking on an illness like a passenger. Yet, a short time ago, I was physically healthy. And before that, illness marched in on a peaceful settlement of clear sinuses and painless throats. The body bounces as an echo on canyon walls. It too is a new creature each day, but that creature is “just” a vessel we are given. Short tempers and strained silences mark the days of ill health, as though we were bad-tempered children unhappy with presents we were given. Peaceful collaboration is a sign of bodily wholeness. But, my friends, let us try a little harder.
It matters little whether we meet in flowered gardens under a triumphant heaven glow, or out in the borderlands of illness, darkness, and conflict. I hail you from the desert chill of sinus-infected insomnia. Let us gather at our mirrors and press our faces into the present as best we can. Doing this, we help the inevitable swing back into the light. We must be sure not to mock or discourage those who cannot bear much, and not only because we ourselves must echo as them. The Beloved Himself may be gathered close and speaking spiritually, and perhaps those who cannot bear much simply cannot bear much else. Surely those who have spoken with the Beloved know there is a beautiful heartbreak in the end of those conversations. Our interruptions are not worthy replacements.