In
dreams we are able to enter a state of balance between what is and
what we think should be. The metaphor is somewhat inappropriate; it
is more like balancing a check book. When an imbalance is discovered
one should find the source of error. Either arithmetic or excess
spending in futile endeavors; resources cast away.
And
one’s life is, in health or otherwise, our greatest wealth.
When
I was a child I sought/thought and did childish things; with
gratitude to St. Paul’s letters to the Corinthians. My childhood
now, at near seventy-thee, is ending by the dream from which I have
just emerged. Indicative of what we all have and hold dear: the will
to live.
To
have a friend, one must befriend themselves, then the Great Friend
emerges, and truth is possible. Nothing is exclusive if you begin to
sense this in others independent of gender, race or creed.
M
once said: “you can heal.” As uncertain now as I was then:
bewildered. Years later I asked if she said this to/of others? “Yes.”
More uncertain now then ever before I think I may have misunderstood;
initially hearing “heal others/heal thyself.” My quibble is, now,
as irrelevant as any sense of jealousy regarding her relationship
with others. She is a wise, wonderful and gifted healer; generous
beyond the limits of my understanding: and contagious at that. No one
is perfect. Yet in our friendship perfection for us is now. Perhaps I
misspeak in the sense that I cannot speak for her experience; only
mine.
Truth
will set you free. Your truth interests me more than mine; in life or
death. This cosmology is ours to inhabit.
I
sense that your truth can be found many ways: in meditation, prayer,
creative activities—and here I’m thinking of dance . . . myself
lurching about laughing for example: alone.
-
Dick Eastman
“Prayer
reaches out in love to a dying world and says, "I care."”
14:52
I
think myself a scrivener annotating personal events to perchance
share for another who like me lived in fear forever. Sensing, within
the last 24 having lived more than all the seconds, minutes, hours
before. And still. Nothing whatsoever is lost in eternity. Yes I have
‘lost ‘ a great deal and know others having lost more.
Today,
bereft of M, I ate lunch alone. She is well I trust, living, and
there will be more moments within the ocean of her emerald green
eyes. Sometimes still in gaze, others dancing in delight or mirth.
But for now I am alone, as I was a lunch, listening to an elder
explain God and Holy Days to a youngster, wondering how can I name
the friend who visits my dreams and days? The interlocutor.
Find
your own and be well,
forever
more.
130412
01:56 should-ought-interlocutor
©
2013 by Jack Spratt
– All
Rights Reserved
