The Harried Mystic

Such a wonderful crisp Fall day, spent visiting farm stands for fresh produce, warm muffins, and cakes. Then, off to our next stop at a local vineyard for a delightfully relaxed wine-tasting. We sampled a young but pleasant Merlot, a Cabernet Blanc, (a complex, dry red blend with hints of blackberry and overtones of oak), and a Riesling (not too sweet).

Leaving the winery, our laughter and novel sentence structures suggested the need for food. So, next to a favorite Greek restaurant. We dined, told stories, debated theological questions, shared tales of killer algae, opined about the excesses of high fructose corn syrup, the virtues of vegetarianism and the desperate need for insurance reform. Too many calories later, we blithely stepped out into the parking lot and discovered it was now getting quite dark. The gibbous moon lit up the southern sky and joined Jupiter’s light in casting a silvery glow over the pastoral landscape. On the way home, we pulled off the road into the parking area of a small municipal beach. The sea sparkled in the moonlight as if dusted with scintillating diamonds.

As we slid into a parking space, a visual illusion made it seem that we could drive right off the pavement into the sea, creating a magical moment at the end of a spectacular day. It was then we saw her, the luminous woman emerging from the surf, her features obscured in the shadows. A lonely silhouette, she walked slowly down by the water’s edge, tossing pebbles into the surf. The way the light played on the water’s surface, and not seeing the water’s edge, it appeared that she was not on the beach but walking on the surface of the water.

This was a night of strange illusions indeed, well-suited to All Hallows Eve.

Then, suddenly, as we fixed our gaze on her movements, a visage from which we could not break away, she began moving towards us. Our good friend, a Dominican Nun, commented that it was all just a bit menacing, and that set us off on wild associations and imagining. In the very next instant, when I thought the night could not get any more surreal, her whole head became luminous, surrounded all around by a soft blue glow. It was a Marian blue, I thought, the color of the maternal, the color of the Holy Mother  in so many paintings from the Renaissance.It was a captivating moment. We were silent. I felt like a little child. Something in me wanted to throw the car into reverse and leave, while another part, the one to which I listened, had no intentions of doing so. We were a little spooked but mesmerized, transfixed by this other-worldly scene.

Then, as she drew nearer, we saw more clearly, and with all the suddenness of a tumble down a flight of stairs, all our imaginings and musings went silent, our colorful images flat-lined,  in the flash of undeniable and anti-climactic realization.

She was talking on her cellphone: A thoroughly 2009 digital ending to an otherwise timeless and magical day.

© Brother Anton and The Harried Mystic, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.