Saturday, September 24, 2011

Filled With God Sounds

By the bridge - where the river was filled with God sounds - clouds shifted and the half moon appeared, its light a sort of silvery presence on decades-old guard rails and crab apple trees. One hesitates, sensing the familiar presence, and responds as always with prayer. Later, perched on a plastic lawn chair, finishing off the cold tea with lemons, listening to little pops and rustles in the bracken and wild grape arbor, one understands at last what it means to be outside time. Our only job, so to speak, is to find the boundary between the physical and the spiritual and then cross over it. If you find this discussion - or discussions like it - pleasing or provocative or interesting, then drop everything and adopt a spiritual path. The dream of horses comes now to fruition. An owl, a train, the brook, the drainage pipe, night crawlers surfacing, coy dogs braying, soft breeze in the pines, one car in the distance, the dog as she runs, and my breathing getting slower all the time. I am saying, that song, and no other song. I am asking (again), whose hands are these, St. Theresa? The dream of bears, that longing set in motion, those hours rolling toward bunches of cloud. No clamoring (no reaching), just grace. Write the sentence that you want to write and that way you'll learn about the sentence that Jesus wants you to write. For breakfast, eggs and handmade sausage spiced with too much pepper, coffee with heavy cream clotted on the surface, but no bread and just a little bit of salted butter. When you love, you love everybody, and you love for everybody, and it works the other way, too, and there are no exceptions because the lack of exceptions is the rule. One burrows in space, lingers in time. A word? The dog rested on the front stairs while her owner paced back and forth in the driveway, occasionally stooping as if her back ached, or as if the secret were etched in fragmented hardtop. You are far away and yet remain my best teacher. A sense of panic informs the project, resulting in this particular segment. My kingdom - seriously! - for one real look at an ant.

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