God Should have Sent a Poet

LOST:
I drive home I listen to a tape I hear the words "I could not see the light of the world", and "to believe in so many truths makes no sense at all" these ring to my mood. My day was approaching its end, and I was feeling lost, and very alone, for a long time I have wrapped myself so tightly against the world. Yet something beats at me wanting access to those areas I closed long ago. A part of me cries, I can't let anyone in, I'm different, I'm alone, I'm alien. Those that have known me would say quiet, reserved, introverted and very intelligent. Great!, for all it has helped.

I'm on the verge of tears, I put on a quite evoking tune, I need to relax over the last two weeks I have been reading and practicing different meditation techniques on how to relax and meditate, (I have slightly elevated blood pressure), boy! today I need it.

MEDITATION:
I sit with my legs crossed on the ground. Breath in slowly imagine a point of light at the crown of my head, breath out slowly and imagine one blows on a small flame and it grows and breathe in again slowly like pulling in fuel, breath out fan the flame higher. Again and again 10 times each. By now in my mind, my eyes closed, it is a sphere of golden light about 2 or 3 inches across. Shift the point of concentration same pattern but the point is between the eyes, light grows behind my closed eyes, again 10 times each. I do this for each chakra point. I continue to breath expanding each till they merge to become one sphere in my mind with me at its center.

EXPEND:
At this point I was physically relaxed and yet had more visualized energy then can almost be imagined. (No that does not work because I could imagine it.) What I did next felt right. I expanded the sphere around me, pushing it outward, enclosing a larger and larger diameter. I desired to expend it all! And in my mind the larger the surface area the less energy per unit of square surface. (The desire to give up all the energy, the desire to expend it all till it was exhausted.)

EXPANSION:
The sphere of self expands to encompass the building, the neighborhood, the city the state, the perspective changes I look down at the earth the bubble of self continuing to expand across the surface in a perfect sphere centered on my location to encompass the Earth and continue to moon and outward. Again a perspective shift the solar system slightly above the planetary orbital plane, now it grows faster expanding to a sphere that first include Venus then Mars the Sun, Mercury, Jupiter and onward. Again a perspective shift far above the disk of the galaxy a tiny sphere at its edge rapidly growing to encompass this island universe. Then out to include a group of 20 galaxies and still it expands, 40, 80, 160, 320, 640, 1280, 2560, the number doubling with each moment, tens of thousands, hundreds, how far till imagination can push this no further.

VASTNESS:
(Can I lose myself?) Can I expand till I lose all perception of myself? I feel reckless on some level. Can I expend myself till there is nothing left? Yet still this globe of self appears bright. The finite cannot encompass or contain the infinite! Or can it?

THE HAND:
A final perspective shift, but what has happened? I see the palm of a hand like I were looking down at my hand cupped as if to hold a ball. It is not mine though. All else beyond is indistinct.

THE SPARK:
A tiny spark of light appears above the palm and grows now only large enough to clearly see it to be a small sphere, this hand could hold many like grains of rice. This is the sphere of self and its expansion has come to a stop. I look up from the perspective of this spark. A face wise and sad, an expression of intentness and compassion, young and at the same time older then time itself, and eyes so deep and vast and filled with knowledge and love words fail. If you ask for details of this face, I have only an impression on my mind yet it contains no detail. Can you see me? My mind cries. And my mind answers back oh yes. My heart sings like a child's with love. I am drawn to reach out with my hand. To touch the face of God in my imagination, with no thought but that of love and to say thank you. (Such a tiny thing this act, it did not matter how I had felt before.) The desire to hold and cling o God like a child. I am not vast enough to hold even a small part, yet I try, oh in my heart and mind I try.

I WITHDRAW:
Filled at once with wonder and sadness and a strange peace. The sphere of self contracts as I can not hold it. All the vastness of self lost in slow contraction back toward my finite self which I could not break free of. Yet in my mind echoes of light remain where it passed and are left behind in the vastness. Yet some of what was out there comes back with me again I have no symbols or semantics to describe it and most is a blur. The sphere finally no bigger then my head centered around my heart. (How much it contains still when I had hoped to expend it all.)

DRIVEN FROM MY HOUSE:
I sat there in wonder and chagrin that I dared visualize/imagine what I did. But now all I know was that though I had intended to stay at home and relax I could not. No voice just an urgency to get up and out, I emptied my pockets of everything except my keys and ID, I remember closing and locking the front door, I was muttering, "ok, ok I am going." (I warn you I'm strange.)

I start for the lake and trail around the lake near the house, I hear in my mind " You will go out and return, for all things do so, and can do so in joy. " I pass the last house and start down the path to the lake ahead. The sunlight warm like a caress to the face and arms. The thought, is this Gods return of my caress? I am not worthy, what have I done to deserve this blessing!

A GIFT:
A voice in my mind gently chides " It is a free gift, simply be, and enjoy, I ask nothing from the tree, the flower, the bird on the lake, it is not to be earned it is simply to be experienced as the gift it is, if you have the eyes to see it. " I realize a true gift is given freely. It is given to the great and small, the good and evil alike; this expression of love is given by God with no distinction. Yet how often have I been blind to its caress and the love it represents, it was always there constant and warm, it was my preoccupation with the world and not God that blinded me, God's love was constant, I was the inconstant.

I walk the path beneath green trees, the lake on my left, in sunlight, and a gentile breeze, wild geese on the lake, birds in the trees, a turtle with his nose out of the water, a gray squirrel searching the leaves. As common a scene as one could imagine, yet each and everyone with a lesson to teach. And mine to enjoy as a gift.

I breath and know it also as a gift, the shade of the tree that cooled the skin, the breeze a caress and a song. All gifts of God's love, that which created the universe knows these things also and knows them like no other, and I even now only catch a glimpse of this love.

Cycles around and around:
I feel so connected to this world created for me and others to see with wondering eyes. I breath out a tree breaths in, the tree breaths out, a living freshness is its breath in my lungs, and the circle starts again. Life renewing itself over and over, given that I and others might enjoy. All this a gift and riches beyond thinking for my eyes and heart and soul. And this treasure none can enter my heart or soul to spoil or steal.

THE GARDEN:
This place though wild and natural at this moment I can recall no garden as beautiful. I think and not for the last time, God you should have chosen and shown this to a poet, for my words fail. Yet this world is like a garden, given that man and women might enjoy, and care for it like the garden it is. Not something that belongs to me, but because I am as much a part of it. I am not separate from this garden that I should use it, and spoil it. Do you not take care of your body?

Yet this I have done in the name of self, thinking this world was mine to use and consume, and in my blindness I only steal from myself and consume that of which I am. Gorging myself on the love and gift nature represents, with no thought of others or God. Hoarding what I call mine fearing these gifts from God can be exhausted. I look in my mind at the things I own, (the things that have owned me), none are so precious as what I see. How often I have sought to possess things that will make me happy, only instead to find emptiness. Yet this view these sights fill me in a way that will last a lifetime. Oh horror we can not exhaust the gift, but we can twist it, and sully it so that others can not see it for what it is. Or hold others from it by our actions and hate and greed.

We did not get thrown of the garden we blinded ourselves to it, to the garden around us.

In this moment I look at these gifts praying my sight and vision can last till I hold it too my heart and soul, that I might share it in these pale and ghostly symbols we call words. I look at the garden that asks the duck, and turtle and flower to simply be themselves and enjoy this moment of life. It does not ask them for tax or labor and it feeds and holds each in its care. Left to itself nature abounds and would undo all the damage we have done, asking only that we enjoy and share its gifts, this magic is God's creation.

I realize how false I have been to myself in the past a soldier when in me was never a desire to fight, yet only the desire to serve, and belong, and also to flee that, which calls in my heart and soul. All to often even today I try to fit myself to form and places dictated by others and not my heart & soul. This is the reason I have felt so alien to the world.

GODS MUSIC:
I hear and feel my heart beat in my chest (how like a drum). The pulse of life of the world about me a sound so deep it is heard in the mind not the ear, how deep a pulse, how measured and constant. The quick pulse of the life around, of bird, squirrel and all others. The wind in the trees and grass how sweet and soothing, The lap of water at the lakes edge, like gentle hands slapping echoing the song's rhythm. The mixture of bird call overlapping each other and filling the empty spaces with music, the trumpet of wild geese, the sound of flowing water, constant and ever changing. The desire to rise in song to this tune so new and yet as old as life itself. And a quite voice says, " You add the sound of your heart beat, the sigh of you breath, be at peace and listen. " My eyes grow hot with the threat of tears. The voice inside says " Remember the thunder and its song, the rain and its melody, you will not find that which does not sing its own part. "

I pray I'm saying this right. I am forced to act on faith that these words properly echo some small part of these truths I feel.

GODS DANCE:
" Do not forget the movement of the dance. " And I realize a small part of its complexity. The trees that sway and shake their leaves in the breeze. The rippling of the water, drawing patterns across its surface. The rush and flurry of the squirrel in his climb. The grace filled dance of the birds as they fly. The waddling gate then stately glide over water of the geese or their majestic glide in the air. The slow yet tumbling mirth of the clouds as they dance to the song of the wind. The dance of sun light on the lake, the dance of sun light and shadow here under the trees. The gentle bow of the grass and flowers. And deeper in my mind I see the dance of stars, and know in my mind some small part of the dance of the atom. (Only the people I see seem out of step with the dance, because they do not stop and look at the world around themselves, as they try to march to the artificiality of man made plan, schedule and deadline). I look away from them and back to the worlds around me, and joy swells till I feel I will burst.

GODS ART:
Then I look at the colors. The art work of God, clouds and sunset, I know no artist so extravagant with color, yet none of these clash, the flowers in bloom, the color of deep blue on the wings of a duck, the blue shades of the lake, the green of growing things, the browns of the tree bark, the contrast gray of the squirrel yet I do not miss the jewel like flash of his eyes. All this to see and enjoy which makes my heart leap in praise to God. And wonder captures me as this is nature in its fallen state, how can this be improved on. So much beauty ones breath is caught, my throat grows tight, that God should love me so much, and all I have is but a child's love to give in return.

Oh. Should god ask me to give up all these wonders? I should gather them in my arms like flowers and run to him with tears of joy, to give him all this richness. Knowing I will hold this vision in my heart which brings a song that has no words to my lips, and laughter bubbling from my heart. (I am surprised the vision is yet so clear, and also I am not surprised).

I look at the lake through leaves of emerald and see the sun upon the rippling waters and I see treasure greater and fairer then fine silver, brighter then gold, with sparks of blue white that rival that of diamonds and I burst into tears for these are treasures that can not be taken from me.

Oh God what do you ask of me, I have not the words; you should have sent a poet not a child such as I. At this moment should you ask me to walk into the darkness, this moment of light will always fill me, and I would go with praise on my lips.

OUR BLINDNESS:
How many I pass on this path, how few see all that I see, the song the dance, the love around them. And I hear the voice in my heart say " Can you not share it with them? " Some I pass look so lost, and I feel like weeping, how can all these not see with eyes and heart, the wonders around them. So I walk on to return to where I started from, part of me wants to run, the inner voice whispers, " Not yet, the time for haste is yet to come. Now is the time to hold this and enjoy the gift."

A NEED TO SHARE:
I want to shout and laugh, the voice whispers, " That time approaches, but first you need peace and time to write this for others to hold when there is little light. " I hold my hand to my heart, I can not but smile because there is so much here, my heart sings and I have no words. And then in my mind I hear, " I have not even touched on truer gifts. " My mind fails, and cannot conceive of more.

"You were made of the dust of this garden and you are as much a part of it as it is of you, and contain its same beauties and frailties. Yet in you is a spark that can not be weighed or measured, yet it is more real then the shell of dust you call a body."

"Remember all things leave and return joyfully to their beginnings. Dawn to day to sunset to night and dawn again. Green springs forth from the ground and returns to nourish the dust and springs forth again. Breath goes out and is revitalized and returns to give life."

"My breath is in you, do you not think it should not return to me and not go forth again."

I shake my head the words come yet they seem so frail and my ability to put them to paper so poor, and I laugh because I do not understand why me, and I sigh because I know I can not rest till I have said what is here. So I write this though in me is little hope of capturing in these symbols, words and ideas even half of what I see. I walked yesterday this path it was not a dream, and even so if it sprang only from my imagination and mind I am still compelled to write these words.

To you who read these words, I wish I could smile and laugh and hold you, God thinks your very special.

Completed
27 April 2001, 1420 Hrs EST
Mark