The air outside is still and comfortable, for some reason “easy” pops into my head as a description. It doesn’t seem to intruded with any sort of message, letting a person simply be. I’ve taken to lighting candles in the evening, at least the last three evenings. The dance of the flame is soothing, as is the gentle aroma of the various scents.
Some of these candles are old, a couple of years, bought when I did a station for the Stations of the Cross. It was more symbolic than direct, with a long entry and gentle music drawing a participant into the scene of Jesus meeting with the women, and then following this up with words from various women mystics. Someday I might transfer all of this online somehow. The aroma of the candles tonight instantly bring back those memories, soothing memories of music and spirituality, my last real concerted effort within a formal church setting. It was in fact good.
Tonight I sit like a sandy beach washed over by a winter storm. Driftwood is stacked all around, seaweed is piled, the once fine dunes are disordered. The clouds have not yet moved past, though the fierceness has, all without recognition. I am drawn to prayer and study more, and wrestle with thoughts of Egypt and Faith, trying to strike for wisdom within still swirling confusion, trying to understand the right path between trust and perseverance.
I didn’t write today, at least not for my primary project, which seems to be slipping away in my mind. Yet there is a part of my soul there, so I wander around seeking to determine the cause of this sudden wall within, and have some thoughts, no answers. God is complicated, to be sure, but he warns us quite clearly of the fact, so it shouldn’t be a surprise. He also warns us that he is passionate about our progress even in this life, so we shouldn’t wonder when he presses us onwards and upwards.
But we do wonder, I wonder, because I cannot see the end, and find the present a little too bare for my tastes. So, I’m left only with faith and trust that it will all be understood by the end.
Which is why I write here really. It is a record of the path, so when the end, or a end comes, I can say I had moments of faith, despite my occasional grumblings. I would have said those in the land were fierce and big, but I would have jumped at the chance to attack. What else is there but the wilderness I would have said. What else is there but the wilderness I say now. So I stand, a little shaky tonight, but I stand.