This past Lent, I spent time living into an image from the New Testament, taking the place of the woman who, in the press of the crowd, found her ultimate connection/relationship by merely touching the hem of Jesus' garment.As with other mystical and prayerful images for me, it found its inspiration in - and emanated from - walking the Stations of the Cross each Friday. Traversing that path must, for me, involve the present as much as the past - a divine coexistence between the two. Here is where I am nearly 'slain' by gratitude for the liturgical tradition I am part of: time and space are bound only by lack of imagination.
So, it happened one Friday evening that Jesus walked down the center aisle of St. John's. Images of blood are strong for me, and were present there, but I will not yet go into that - not now, not at this point. I believe that each individual's mystical path is a unique revelation (having tried and tried for years to copy others' practice, I gave up...and found myself waiting for me in God's open hand). So...for me, that night, spiritual gravity pulled not my hand or fingertips, but my forehead all the way to the spot where a holy but dusty garment brushed the blood red carpet.
Again, speaking to/from the liturgical, mystical tradition, all senses are invited to the event. So...my forehead felt the gravitational weight of my prostrate head as a unique and focussed ache. Seemingly, mere fingertips were not enough. Eyes, pregnant with tears, could not bear the light-ness of the moment...and themselves bowed shut.
This was a place that I would continue to go to during Lent, and still do. Each time, the image is a call to drop everything - yes, even my very self. The collapse is reminiscent of a child's toy -- the jointed figure, laced together by string, that loses all tension at the touch of the button under its tiny platform - only to be raised up, refreshed, when it is released.
This is a good place. A place of nourishment...of communion. And through that, an electrical current of pure Love does more than reach out from the past or reflect back from the present: It is both...and more...all at once...as it passes between us.
7 comments:
Have I told you lately just how amazing you are? If not, consider yourself thusly so informed...
BTW, you were right about the orange cast of the Traveler picture; the tone is perfect for your site. The blurred nature of your hem in the photo - suggestive perhaps of how very there you are and have been and will be in the fabric of our lives, yet soon to be not there in a physical sense. We'll have to settle for being that shadowed figure in a doorway, watching your progress from a place near, yet far...
Ah, dear Fellow Traveler: Perhaps it is our shared musical journeyings that fuel the mystical.
I say (insert British accent here...not sure why...): We do need to toast the mystical with some quality sake. Until yesterday, I had an Easter bottle of such, but I took it up to Rio Linda and uncorked it with Craig, Laura and my sister Claudia, all of whom wanted to know how you and Miss Mary are.
I like the new look, great job, you two! Love the "ethereal" picture of DD walking on the glowing street -- near, yet far, slightly blurred, ever moving onward... *sigh* Thanks for helping me see the mystical side of life.
Thank you for sharing your mystical journey in such a deeply intimate fashion. In the words of Hildegard, may you find yourself to be "a feather on the breath of God".
You used the term "living into an image" in your post. Is that similar to what Foster describes in Celebration of Discipline as immersing oneself into a scripture? I found that technique to be a wonderful way to connect with God.
Brian, how grateful I am for your insightful comment/question.
The first answer: I don't know! But in your question I am reminded, yet again, of the influence Foster's writing had -- and still has on me.
So, yes, I'm certain that his book was a gift of God to plant me on a path.
Recently, I was looking for info on Agnes Sanford on the internet and came across some links to Foster which were vilifications of him from the evangelical right. I was shocked! But, then, even more grateful for God's hand in giving me what He knew I craved and needed.
Blessings on you!
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