The roof is white, covered in a thin layer of frost. A cold breeze chills the body, enlightens the mind. There are no clouds in the sky, the sun has crested the horizon as is making it way up past the trees and hills to the west, it is also below freezing outside. I put out the more hearty ‘critter feed’, which is all corn and sunflower seeds. I figure the area beasties have had a cold night of it, and need the sustenance. Within a minute, two jays come… they watch me when I walk outside.
The invisible vapors rising up from the heater vent make shadows on the wall in the light of the rising son.
My soul still dances within, almost in a frenzy, driving me to more than a little bit of distraction.
The trouble with this is expression. This inner drive has no outlet within my present context. I cannot go and worship with crowds of the faithful, I cannot share the intimate presence of another soul similarly enthused, I cannot go and preach to those who would hear my words.
I only have this small room, this little tiny path of expression which mocks the depths of my drive to respond.
I do have prayer.
So I stand outside, letting the words pour forth, driven to God not by despair but by an encroaching joy which has no relevant source. Lacking a source, there is no expression, no release. No one with which to share this epiphanic dance.
In the past this height has been followed by depression, as falling from the lofty places can bring. I’ve asserted my weaknesses, so as to dull my delight. Without a source or response it seems unfitting a feeling.
Today, though, I test the waters with new intentions, letting my soul rise while keeping my purpose steady onwards. I shall pray, continually throughout the day, letting my soul’s overflow rise to the heavens, letting this exultation drain free through positive endeavors, allowing my soul to grow through the hefty bounty of a heavy touch of the Spirit. This is a taste of heaven, and now I know my soul’s limit in embracing such a reality. To grow with it, rather than let it slide away through imperfect responses, is my goal.
The question remains about what it is pointing towards.
I don’t know. I’m much better, significantly better, at identifying the nuances of a evil spirit. This now is a joyful noise, and I don’t have the ear to pick out the individual strains or heavenly melodies.
May I learn.
It is also worth a note that I dreamed last night. That’s not something most people would find interesting. I do, only because I very rarely dream, and nine times out of ten the dreams I remember are mundane and boring.
Dreaming dreams with meaning is not one of my spiritual gifts it seems.
Most of the time. That discernment bugger makes its way into my slumber during rare times, and not usually during times of positive responses.
I can remember just about every nightmare I’ve had in my life, and can count these just using my fingers.
I had one last night, and I know it’s meaning, and I know that all about me are swirling battles which seek to win over my soul. The fighting is fierce today, and my very being is the prize.
No, I’m not going to share what it was or what it means… that remains within.
There are moments of calm and moments of decisive action, there are times in which we are asked to wait, and times we are asked to endure. Sometimes we are called to do something, all the time we are called to become something. Now is a time in which the battles rage fiercely for my soul, and I can only do the barest actions in support.
Daniel was told his prayers were answered, but the angel was delayed. This isn’t a tale of cute cherubs or insane individuals clamoring for answers to rational problems. We live in a world which contains a reality we are only a small part of, we cannot see more broadly, and all around us there lies a fog. Some can hear the battle raging, but only know the barest details. Today is a day in which the battle rages, and I hear the cannons, feel the errant shots pierce into my being, exulting and confused all at once, wrestling with a reality which transcends everything I know.
Such is the spiritual life. Antony knew this well, as do all those who leap into the void and let themselves drift with the current of the Spirit.