Betsy said it and we laughed.
I can’t remember what we
were talking about. I just
remember how we laughed
and remarked that that was
a good one when she said,
“God isn’t who He used to be.”
I kind of want to tell you more,
you know, the context of our
conversation or to expound on
the implications, the irony which
instantly brought laughter.
But whatever more I could tell
you is already there for you to see.
It is in the remark itself:
“God isn’t who He used to be.”
It’s about us.
I am one among billions
of fish in the Sea.
I don't know why.
I swim with my kind
and go where they go
… that I do know.
We seek food to eat
and try to not be eaten
by those that would.
We all move as one.
We live to survive.
I don't know why.
I am one among billions
of fish in the Sea
… until I am not
I stood on the peak amidst the expanse of the moonlit, starry night, with the resplendent glory of the Sierra Nevada, windswept and cold, lungs filling full with exquisitely pure air after the hard climb.
Weakened by the long survival trek, body seeking food, the soul freedom, suddenly I was at peace in the profound beauty of the night.
No window light or human voice or face, or road or sound of sufferings’ groan was near or real in this ineffable place of truth. How odd, I thought, that such a place—cathedral of grace—lives, exists while humanity struggles to grin in the cruel grip of its inescapable pain.
Come here, I thought, come here with me now – see what I see, feel what I feel, know what I know in this moment and place. Come in to the hallowed beauty of this night.
But the night said they must come in their own time, urged me to push on to Freedom Road, to food and water—to avoid the aggressors.
It gifted me and sent me on my way to learn what I may before my inevitable return home — to the beauty of the night.
Note: This was an experience I had as a twenty year old Air Force Pilot. I had just finished the two week “Starvation Trek” in the Sierra Nevada mountains that was the second phase of the Air Force Survival School. The third and final phase was the Escape and Evasion Exercise. Earlier that night, our crew of eleven was loaded into a truck and driven to an isolated location in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada range where we were dropped off in pairs. Each pair was given a small map and a compass. Our challenge was to negotiate about 25 miles of difficult terrain while locating four partisan (friendly) checkpoints and avoiding the Aggressors (the enemy). The objective was Freedom Road, located at Stead Air Force Base near Reno, Nevada. If we managed to evade the Aggressors and cross over Freedom Road, we would have completed survival school without any further requirements. If we were captured, we would likely endure some very aggressive interrogation and notoriously rough treatment in the “POW” Camp.
A Sierra Nevada Night takes place as I and my companion reached the peak of a third or fourth high ridge at about midnight. We had been weakened by the Starvation Trek so we were physically exhausted. In case you’re wondering, we successfully crossed Freedom Road the next day.
What to make of this thing we call Life?
Some offer answers from the Book they
say is “God’s” while others assert and insist
it’s all a matter of random odds. Perhaps
we’re in a dream not ours—but of the
One Complete. Yet if this be so, I wonder
more at His troubled sleep.
The oddest thing of all is that I find it odd
at all, absent a memory of what …
another life? If this is all I’ve known,
what other world could I divine? What mad
notion compels me to entertain something
more sublime?
Then too, perhaps the dream is mine alone
to write and play as I may choose, with
schemes and scenes and lesser dreams for
others to consider thus. If that, then have I
the Gods designed? Is my self-deception
so complete? Is such genius stuff in me so
devised to lay great Mysteries at my own feet?
The Silence moves through a boundless sea of manifest energy, its inexorable principle proceeds unfettered always and forever beyond comprehension to be seen by those who see without eyes, hear without ears, touch without hands. It is here, there, outside, inside, nowhere, everywhere. We are in it and of it.
The Silence is without measure. Its reach is beyond all, its grasp complete. Its emptiness is full, its silent voice compelling as it whispers through creation like an omnipresent cantor informing the eternities wherein Gods share Forever stories and shape new worlds from ageless cosmic Stuff!
Listen to it! Be quiet and listen! Be still and You shall hear Your voice among the voices of the Gods. You shall hear the startling, glorious music of the Universe—the eternal One Song. With the Gods, You shall joyously dance the Dance of Eternal Life … Danse de la vie éternelle.
You shall witness the ineffable Force as you voyage through the infinite dimensions of the Process! Be still and know. Be fastened in Your moment of Truth and know the glory of Your completeness, Your oneness, Your was, is, and shall-be-ness.
Oh, listen, my Dear One, please listen. Without ears to hear nor eyes to see, nor any senses five of Yours, You shall attend the School of Knowledge, of All There Is, Was and Shall Be. Listen to the Silence wherein All shall be proclaimed to You.
Discover Your Self among the rest with which you are One. Listen without listening and all things shall come to You as You wish, in the order of Your wishes. You shall dream the dreams of Gods, witness Their schemes and know the Truth which shall set you free! You shall Create as They created You.
Just be perfectly still … My Dearest One.