I felt it as soon as I sat down, the presence. Or was it a smell, a feeling, a sound of silence.

In that ancient, musty, old church there was solace. In the smell of ancient books of prayer dedicated to an antique deity, in the cool damp of carved stone set to bare earth, there was another world. And, it seemed, a better one.

Could I hear a reedy chant in ancient Latin or early English? Did I see flickering candles lighting well used books of hours?

Was I there, in some other time and place, singing with those men of far off belief. I think I was. And I know I wanted to be.

It seemed then, as it has so often felt to me over many difficult decades, that we miss something in life if we fail to heed such presence. Whatever, whenever, wherever or indeed if that presence may be.

Is it god, the universe or merely some reflection of one’s own complex mind. Which of itself may be a mere scion of another and more complex structure.

Or does it matter. Do we need to ask, to question or does it suffice to follow that presence and lose oneself in something greater.

And afterwards in the woodlands and fields of this old county, that presence followed me. Gently insisted I listen to the rustle of the wind and the creeking of the trees.

Made it known that its voice could be found in silence, far from the thunder and violent aesthetics of modern man. Far from the roar of the jets of war, far from the polemic of anger and greed and self.

Can I dwell in that place of quiet voices and meditative peace for the rest of time. Can I seek out that presence and stay with it, whatever it may be. I think that I can. I know that I wish to.

Can I leave behind anger and greed and merge with the infinite when I hear it calling. I hope so.

An odd time of late and some curious experiences, deep in the trance of meditation.

A Norse woman intruding into my thoughts, and then the odd sensation that it was myself in another time and place.

A former incarnation it seemed. I am not, apparently, the single being I thought I was these past years.

A sense of loss of self but connection to something greater. Peace, calm, beauty, meaning. What meaning? I can not say, I am none too sure, but more than its lack felt in a waking world so often bereft of any apparent purpose.

Can I tell you the meaning of the universe? That I have discovered the eternal, whether within or without. I don’t think I can.

What I can say is that there seems to be more than is customarily apparent to our waking selves in normal states of consciousness.

I am living in a bubble of great beauty in an otherwise ugly and war torn world. I hope to remain there and wish others could too.