Story
9/20/11 The circle into which she longed to look began to form on the floor beneath her feet. She stood affixed, as if in a trance. Could it be real? Could it be happening at last? She cast a net wide with her mind, capturing all that was and is and is to come into a single moment of time, so that she might look at it forever through this new forming lens beneath her feet. What had brought it about at last, she was not sure at all, nor why today was the day of its formation into the reality of the world she called home, at least in this present life of her many lives. Gesture posited itself within her thinking...a gesture of light, but what. Dance. It was time to dance, and she danced within herself and allowed its flow to the surfaces and to the cells of her being of light.
This was a dream. It had to be. But it was not a dream. And what she knew was very different from what she remembered. The knowing within her rose up but not to memory, for that would require work. “Nothing is ever that simple,” she thought. How she wished it were, for lifetimes of the knowing work had worn her down, and she was tired.
Excitement rose within her and then died back as Jonah's bush rose up and died back...more work on top of her tired spirit. For a moment, she wished she could dive, head-first, into the cataclysmic circle beneath her, leaving the work to someone else. They could have it. Their name could go on it. She was tired. She didn't care anymore, and except for moments here and there, wished to be let go of her calling task, her responsibility, for it was grave...always had been.
Only days before the writing of these words had come screaming through her fingers, onto the keyboard of her computer, and onto the lighted screen before her face, “Your calling is upon you so mightily that you are going to wish you could turn away. It is great with child as from the beginning. Nothing has changed. Only now, it is near the birthing of truth, and you are great with it. Just as a woman in birthing travail wishes to turn away and escape the task all together, so will you.”
And so she did wish it!
Her book had ended, her story begun.
The light flashed across her face.
9/28/11 Into the darkness she came, pulled away from her knowing, the light of her face alive with tension and grace. Into the darkness she came, for another testing of her spirit was upon her, grave and full of woe. Into the darkness she came, her being split into a thousand segments to stem the tide and turn its edges inside out, to roll it into the eternity of the nothingness of time.
Over and over she had done her work, not fully knowing, for her knowing was of another world. Into the darkness she came, beyond her knowing, for if full knowledge were hers of her tasks at hand, she would surely turn away and return no more.
Into the judgment of time, she cast her net, and she followed it where it led her to grasp the time frame of reason to up-end the flow and govern its change into light. How she did this, she did not know, for it was a mystery to her known only by God, and she yielded herself into God's hands and followed through.
Throughout her days she would set the stage for her return to earth field before she left so that another would be there for her on her return, that is until now, when tethers to tie into were growing scarce with their weariness of her care. Some new way was needed. Some new help. She lifted up her eyes unto God once more, pleading for help from those just outside her earth realm to take the place of those on earth who had grown weary of the task. She wished beyond wish to have to plead no more from the realms of darkness for rescue back into the world of light, to plead to flesh and blood.
12/17/11
The light dawned across her face, but she could not look into it. The chasm was deep, and out of it came the tide so dark that she was tense with the song of the ages, awaiting escape into total madness and loss to avoid that which was. She came screaming into the light, but it was too bright for the dawning. Tone it down. Tone it down. Tone it down. She longed to look in and actually see, actually see who she was, but the mirror was obscured by the glare of the lights flashing around her head.
If she could turn the mirror away a bit, to the side maybe, then maybe she could catch her reflection. If she could catch her reflection, and see her true meaning, the truth of who she really was, it would come back, back to her at last to clear the way and tear away the darkness around her, but her light was too bright.
She thought...she thought...turn off thought, but how with the screaming darkness around her. Dim the light you idiot. Dim the light, but how. No!!! Trim the light. Control it somehow. Shouldn't it be under her control?
She flung open the gate to her gifts. Search, search you idiot. Search. Here among the gifts there must be that which trims the light to her longing to be made free to do her work, the work of her calling without distraction and grief. Help, God, help. She longed for eternal help. Surface the gift of light control. Replace what was lost for centuries of time so that the darkness would move away, attracted to some other light, a false light, and not to her light.
Holy Spirit, why do you attract the darkness? I cannot conquer it. Only you can...and will.
