Comes the Morning

          It had been a puzzling rather than a difficult day. After all, time passes whether we will it or not, so the passing of the day was not a difficulty. But in an odd sort of way small events, that I had become accustomed to happening, were not occurring at least in the almost-but-not-quite present. This experience, which seemed to be almost-but-not-quite attached to the passing of the day, left me feeling not being quite present in the here and now. It was a relief, therefore, when tiredness decided that it was time for bed.....and dream time.

..........She came to me, the female Presence of the Morning, and asked whether I was still wedded to the Presence of the Evening. I affirmed that I was, that the breaking away from all-that-has-been was proving to be too difficult. My questioner, the younger Presence, still too immature to have any knowledge, but yet full of knowing, replied that I could not touch her. I could not experience the touch of the one whilst holding onto the other.
          In my dream I turned to that older other, the Presence of the Evening, so full of knowledge yet with so little knowing.  She would not respond to my entreaties but chose, rather, to communicate with her younger rival across the intervening Dark Night. There seemed to be no animosity between them, and this I did not understand. They spoke in quiet tones, too quiet for me to hear. But it seemed as if much passed between them with an authority around the Presence of the Morning, the spirit of all-that-might-yet-be, that was unmatched by the Presence of the Evening, the spirit of all-that-has-been.
          I was assailed by words, beating at my head and my heart. Blackness lay in the words shouted like hammer blows by the Presence of the Evening. I felt so wretched and powerless, unable to justify my desire to put aside all the enlightenment that she had given me. Thankless wretch! And the black words came ever more rapidly until they filled the space around me. I could have no direct response to her. Instead I went to my inner, private room and began to destroy everything that I owned, everything that gave any clue as to what and who I was, to what I have been. Yet still came the attacks.
          And on the third day came peace. There were no more words of assault. The spirit of all-that-has-been had returned to the evening. Between her and the spirit of all-that-might-yet-be, God's promise and perfection, stood, in all its intensity, the Dark Night of my continuation..........

          Time passes wearily, yet I seem to be caught in a kind of timelessness, a not quite here-ness. The Presence of the Evening has become ever more fixed in the past, like once joyful stars imprisoned in a static opacity; the times of all that once was. The Presence of the Morning approaches in the world of the spirit, as surely as the day follows the night in the temporal world. Around and through her is fluidity and transparency, an avatar from what might yet be. And I must be ready; I must be ready.

I Don't Know How to Cope

Those of you who read Box Elder, dear Lucy's blog, will have learned of the passing of our lovely Molly. There was another time in my life when I felt powerless to control events, but the unmanageability that had gone with that powerlessness was far more than it is now. At that earlier time, I discovered a belief in a Presence that has sustained me ever since. Yet, still I am intensely aware that my control is strictly limited. And there is a sense of relief in that. But also, I am aware, as on that previous occasion, that it is the thinking function that is affected. I pick up something with the intention of working with it, and I find I cannot remember how. I look around me, expecting something to appear, but it is gone.
So when I sit trying to think, and remembering the past fourteen years, the difficult times as well as the joyful times, I have to let go and rely on that inner Presence to take over. I am not really coping even though that is the condition I broadcast. And then it begins again, that deep pain that must have release, that unashamedly wets my face until its shuddering force is expended. I have never known a grief that is this intense, that leaves me so washed-out. But it will pass. Thankfully, this level of hurt cannot be maintained.
There is a little quirk in me that sees the years that have passed in terms of light and dark. Thus my earliest years are in deepest shadow, until by about seven years old, when daylight appears. My teenage years, indeed into my early twenties, the view is once again in deep shadow. After that there is once again a lightening into a kind of gentle overcast that persists until the stormy years when, unable to see ahead, my spiritual life - such as it was - was torn apart. That is a period in my life for which I am deeply grateful. Nothing but beneficial richness flowed from that encounter with that Divine Presence. First came a new, spiritual awakening, then Lucy and finally Molly. Those at least seem to be the most important events. When I look ahead, to the possibility of years to come, but without Mol, they are nevertheless years that are in bright sunshine.
I, and I know Lucy also, have been deeply touched by the comments that have been submitted on Box Elder. We are deeply grateful to you all. If I were in total control of my inner Self, I would probably not have written this post, have seen yesterday's event and aftermath as being too private and personal to share. I don't know.

          Dear Natalie said that Molly is now in Dog Heaven. This is not the time to debate the verisimilitude of that psycho-spiritual-philosophical concept. You will all have to accept, no question, that God Is. I know this because She has lived with us for the last fourteen years. Now that Her sabbatical has come to an end, I think the current incumbent of the top job (the Boss as Natalie calls him) had best look to his laurels. A reorganisation is about to take place; she had lots of practice down here. So when life gets a little better than we might have a right to expect; when we are confronted with a new joy, feel a happiness that is a little deeper than usual; when the stars are shining a little more brightly than usual, you won't need me to tell you who - at least in part - is responsible. And if you find this post a little too silly and mushy, I can only say in my defence that, besides my heartfelt thanks to you all, it is all I have to offer right now.