And Did Those Feet

Zeno

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.

15 Comments

  1. Much to react to to here, but I will pick this one, not intending to be contentious:
    “Can I tell you the meaning of the universe?”
    Why should there be ‘meaning’?
    We perceive a something we call the ‘universe’.
    If it exists outside of our perception of it, cannot it just ‘be’?
    And since we are necessarily part of the ‘universe’ we perceive, can we not just ‘be’?
    —
    Words and concepts described by words are so slippery…
    —

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    2. Although at such times I tend to perceive it and I as…. Well, I guess all part if the same whole. As you rightly say such feelings are difficult to describe in words. Being not meaning. Yes indeed. But somehow at such times being feels to me benign. Perhaps being benign is quite meaningful enough anyway. I find such feelings in many places but often the smell and feel of a musty old church brings it out very strongly.

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      2. Yes. And yet I have found much the same on beaches and mountaintops and in my own garden. But that something always seems so very strong to me in a musty and empty country church. Is one seeking or has one found? Perhaps the latter.

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  2. Most people live in an ego bubble. If we only realized how seldom, how briefly or how superficially other people think about us, that bubble would burst.

    Like you Anthony I just want peace. Too many people just want “a peace of the action.”

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  4. This. I like how you described your experience and kept your heart and mind open. It sounds as if you had a lovely string of moments that deepened your connection to life. Or beyond. Or was it before? There’s a sort of timelessness spoken of here that we rarely see. I, for one, am happy to see you experience such a thing for yourself. I bet it was… words will fail here… peaceful. Good post my man.

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    1. Thank you, it was an extraordinary day full of insights and, well, “magic” in a way. Somehow I feel very sure it is the way we ought to lead our lives. To live for such feelings and experiences and to cease to cover the world in concrete and ugliness. I hope that day may come.

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      1. We each share that Temple nature provides. You really inspired me. I’m coming out of the haze of injury and was feeling a bit nihilistic. I hadn’t read, prayed, or anything in the last few weeks. So reading your words helped remind me that life is beautiful and meant to be enjoyed. Whatever is beyond our cognitive abilities has a wonderful way of reminding us just how fortunate we are to be alive. I mean, we have to grow right? There’s so many of us thinking along those lines it almost has to be around the corner.

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  5. You really have captured a range of mystical moments in this posting, Anthony, and your expression of wonderment, your vividly descriptive account of your experiences, and your willingness to allow an opening to a richer and more expansive explanation for them, marks a kind of threshold over which you may have now crossed, metaphorically speaking.

    Without suggesting any definitive view, you leave open the realm of what is possible, and while engaging in a kind of free-flowing stream of consciousness, you attempt to describe in words what cannot be adequately expressed in that way, which nonetheless brought out a most provocative and compelling arrangement of words that inspire and enliven your narrative. With only a minimal degree of participation in the reading, one is left with the feeling of having stood next to you while your experiences and musings unfurled.

    Your skill in conveying the essence of your thoughts here provides a delightful detour from your occasionally darker take on ” the thunder and violent aesthetics of modern man,” and it is my hope you will continue to ponder more on the alternate view presented here as you move forward with your ruminations.

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    1. What a wonderful comment John and thank you so much for your thoughts. It is certainly my aim to concentrate on the good and not the bad going forward. Even if I am only dreaming it is my desire and my intention to live in the world I describe here.

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  6. Beauty and ugly, life and death, good and evil are the same sides of One. Can’t have one without another. The idea is to stand among ugly and see beauty, and then to see the beauty in ugly and ugly in beauty. To only see One.

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