What are we really if not a bramble full of often stray ideas and images conditioned by memories, fears, delights and expectations – themselves ideas.
I write seated on our couch before the unlit fireplace, with the Christmas tree standing opposite, all adorned with brilliant ornaments both old and new. It stands as an homage to Christmases past and as hope for those yet to come.
The space-time of my sitting is comforting and yet also a tad nervous.
A palpable tension lies beneath as yet another man-made year passes and the possibilities of this new one are infinite. Dark news of the world, and my lifelong search for what is right and true, comingle in my heart. Only a time of true inner silence resolves the dance of so many dilemmas.
God is process – a continuous evolution toward ineffable fulfillment at the center; a love sensed in every breath, a heartbeat echoed in my own.
Maybe I’ll light the fireplace.
Happy New Year.
© The Harried Mystic, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.
The Harried Mystic 
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