Here we are nine months later. Where I live, fall is upon us, but only by its signal, an anxious cat, and maybe a hint of yellow and red dry leaves, mixed in with dry grass that keeps on giving annoying airy shoots above it. The mower might catch on fire. Ninety-degree-plus weather persists and I've gotten to that dreaded place of acceptance, almost indifference, to the abnormally warm temperatures in late September. Yes, am surrendering any preconceived notions for what's happening around me.
Okay, there's more going on within me than the passing notations about the weather, so maybe that's why there's no more space for that conversation, other than it feels like what used to be the norm, is now moving into a newly defining norm. Life as I've known it is transitioning before my eyes and through my mind.
There have been moments in my past--a tug here, a nudge there--where the everyday relic stood out, like a bookmark, a remember this or note that. Things like seeing freesias for the first time, or noticing the statues of Mary in the tiny Brooklyn townhouse front lawns, or standing or driving in front of a building or complex where I'd eventually work. Or worse, would be blown up.
Everything reverberates. Resounds. Ripples.
I still think back to those moments and wonder if it isn't the way a higher, more powerful consciousness--the source of consciousness--is sending out fishing lines, which so happen to dangle in one's presence. Or maybe they're bread crumbs. Is it another way of saying, We've been here all along. Just waiting for you to join us. Keep going on your wayward journey. Get through it. There's a reason you're here and you won't know until you do.
So despite my years on this planet, I am still a visitor in a strange land, puzzling over the pieces, and sometimes under them.
Guess I need to bring my head above water and have a look around. A bigger one, that is. It's that or be buried, sucked into history.
(To my point, see the embedded picture with information about the area--the mithraeum-- where the London Stone is currently displayed, in former Londinium (which sounds more like an element than a place).
One for the odd-thought department: The Roman empire didn't fall. It receded; then it morphed into something else. Appreciating it was easier to rule with a more compassionate style, Emperor Constantine promoted religious tolerance in 313 CE, defeated other imperial rivals, and called the First Council of Nicaea
in 325 CE.
Okay, there's more going on within me than the passing notations about the weather, so maybe that's why there's no more space for that conversation, other than it feels like what used to be the norm, is now moving into a newly defining norm. Life as I've known it is transitioning before my eyes and through my mind.
There have been moments in my past--a tug here, a nudge there--where the everyday relic stood out, like a bookmark, a remember this or note that. Things like seeing freesias for the first time, or noticing the statues of Mary in the tiny Brooklyn townhouse front lawns, or standing or driving in front of a building or complex where I'd eventually work. Or worse, would be blown up.
Everything reverberates. Resounds. Ripples.
I still think back to those moments and wonder if it isn't the way a higher, more powerful consciousness--the source of consciousness--is sending out fishing lines, which so happen to dangle in one's presence. Or maybe they're bread crumbs. Is it another way of saying, We've been here all along. Just waiting for you to join us. Keep going on your wayward journey. Get through it. There's a reason you're here and you won't know until you do.
So despite my years on this planet, I am still a visitor in a strange land, puzzling over the pieces, and sometimes under them.
Guess I need to bring my head above water and have a look around. A bigger one, that is. It's that or be buried, sucked into history.
(To my point, see the embedded picture with information about the area--the mithraeum-- where the London Stone is currently displayed, in former Londinium (which sounds more like an element than a place).
One for the odd-thought department: The Roman empire didn't fall. It receded; then it morphed into something else. Appreciating it was easier to rule with a more compassionate style, Emperor Constantine promoted religious tolerance in 313 CE, defeated other imperial rivals, and called the First Council of Nicaea
in 325 CE.
