Reverie – And Other Gifts From The Heart
Cornmother
By Mark Haberstroh
A Christmas Special, From Lessons Along The Way, Mark Haberstroh, 2012
Reverie
There ought to be a mathematical relation between every breath we take and an increased measure of gratefulness. Perhaps it can be quantified by writing B²=2G, where G, with few exceptions, is ever greater than B. However, having made the point, the point is thereby missed. No moral perception can or should be quantified, thank Goodness, although we often take the simplest things for granted and miss their moral lessons. From the other side those simple things are our miracles in the everyday. The linearity of logic clears a singular and straight path to the goal, but excludes Life through its passage. This is the sacrifice for freedom. The taproot draws directly the earth’s cool water, yet the root system increasingly differentiates and refines its branching into a smallness so delicate and minute as to approach the invisible. Here life flows through root tips in waves that cannot be touched or measured on a dial. This, the secret place of incipient transformation, is where matter leaves matter behind and so loses itself, leaving an echo that allows the impress of spirit, of receptivity to the divine. The shadow of what was becomes filled with the New. Somewhere a distant trumpet sounds in the depths of worlds, not heard by outer ears but by the devoted heart, marshalling elementals in that first movement of life in rivers of spirit flowing toward physical manifestation. Growth becomes musical experience.
Of like nature are those ever-so-quiet whispers of thoughts into the mind, hardly heard … as if in a dream where the reticent unicorn flees from the periphery of vision. Having barely touched with silver hoof our dream’s soft edge, he leaves us with longing for pure and noble deeds. Those whispers are the shy voices of Angels who await our opening, who await our efforts to raise ourselves into a shared resonance, a crescendo of soul and spirit gliding into more light-filled spaces, born aloft by the breath of a gratefulness that builds wings bearing us to higher things. This might be Grace.
It is a miracle that I can place one foot in front of the other while breathing in the cool night air, lovely Sylphs and all. Their interpenetration can be felt as a gentle shock, yet setting fear aside, the message becomes clear through mutually conscious assent, and in unison we chime, “We are one, yet know we are not. Thank you.” Striding forth in consciousness overcomes the Maya of separateness and aloneness, which is the beneficent darkness that must be endured to know who we are. This welcoming darkness is of the earth, our Mother, and the healing bosom of sleep. We work toward the light of the Father that irradiates and activates … and with the Help of the Son we bind ourselves in freedom, bearing Witness as the three cast their healing shadows in the human soul and through the world, giving us the rose, the honeybee, or a hummingbird as well as Piety, Truth, and Virtue. And along this path of cognitive metamorphosis the soul’s heart becomes inwardly lit, and the dark is not so dark anymore. – Mark Haberstroh