Blessed Darkness of Being

You wake before dawn and wrestle from the tangled web of that recurring, feverish nightmare: lost, alone, and frantic, you arrive late and cannot find the gate for your flight home, home from a chaotic, hostile, foreign place. A stranger in a stranger land.

Slumber still fogs your brain and clouds your sight. Who is that sinister stranger, still sneering from the corner of your chamber? You pull the pile of yesterday’s crumpled clothes back onto your old bare bones.

You sense the need for cover, so you slip into a well-worn, favorite jacket before you step outside and set about your daily walk. The cool air feels thick and moist and soft against your gray stubble face. 

A dense yet fine mist fills the atmosphere. With a click, your torch illuminates a sea of minuscule, suspended droplets of water. You cast its shimmering beam of light first forward, then upward into the heavens.

You revert to the darkness. Opening or closing your eyes makes no difference, because like a wave of ink noir washing over you, there are no shadows—only utter, formless blackness around you. Black as the sum of all colors, like life as the sum of all parts. 

You know this empty country road well, but something beckons you to explore, to discover, to understand anew. Your internal compass points you the right way. 

You wonder if you now travel through a magical passageway: a miniature wormhole tunnel that transports you to another point along the space-time continuum. 

Not frightened, you are heartened by this translocation to another dimension. You are not again a stranger in a stranger land, but instead a welcomed visitor, perhaps in the Promised Land. 

You float ahead, further, deeper into the blessed darkness, and cross over into another state of being. It is a tranquil place. Your ever restless mind settles, and your thoughts become focused. A show-and-tell of plain yet precise images of present and past family faces parades across your brain. The chronic ache in your head, neck, shoulders, eases. Your weightless figure glides along the path. 

You are somewhere—somewhere other than Earthly terra firma.

You are no longer filled with uncertainty and angst—instead serenity and contentment. 

There is no other sound, as the ether around you absorbs all other din. You wonder if this is what comes after death? Yes, you are still alive, for your heart is beating and your lungs are breathing. Everything else about you is hushed. Even your tread is silent.

Time stands as still as the air around you. You sense the presence of Elohim, who have taken you into their arms and wrapped you in another, comforting cover. You feel their loving embrace. Comforted by their companionship, you are not alone—once lost but now found.

You pause for a moment. You are compelled to look up into the pitch black, starless sky—when, through the parted clouds, a slivery, wet moon appears and presents only its lowest crescent cup. Clever Elohim smile down on you and reassure you that in any forbidding darkness, they are with you. 

As you gaze at the crescent moon, you whisper a prayer of gratitude for granting you patience and fortitude, compassion and wisdom. The crescent moon disappears behind the dense veil of low-hanging clouds above you. 

As you climb the hill that may bring you back to your earthly dwelling, your pace slows to extend the experience in this other world. Your footsteps become more measured.

Your shoes crunch against the driveway rocks and gravel. The pale-yellow porchlight shines like a homing beacon. Your warm, bare hand turns the cold, damp doorknob. The squeaky door opens with the usual push. You reenter your current reality.

You slip out of your well-worn, favorite jacket.

You grind and brew a fresh pot of your favorite coffee. You savor a big mug of java with lots of frothy, steamed whole milk. You greet the new day’s muted first rays of light. 

Your body is nourished, your soul cleansed, your mind renewed.

You can see it all—all as that rare gift: the gift to be simple, to be who you ought to be, to find oneself in the place just right, in that valley of peace and insight. Amen.