Tuesday, July 9, 2013

The Language of the Lord, Part three

What speaks within me?

I learn to listen with parts I don't know about: parts that don't assume they understand. I have many tools for sensation within Being that are unknown, unused, untested; I tiptoe up to them gently, quietly, not sure of where they can from or what they mean. I don't want to use them without sensitivity, because I don't know how to use them very well.

Each one of those parts listens in a new way, to a new language, that is actually a very ancient language. It has been inscribing itself on the fabric of the world since there was a world; and every word that is written on that fabric enfolds all of the words that have come before it. Each word in that language is a vessel that holds all of its parents, everything that brought it here. So the Word of the Lord contains all other words, moving forward forever in a flow of time that is eternally and entirely in touch with itself.

Ah, how different the world is when I listen! I, too, am a part of this language; there is no separating me from it, and each word that arrives, both from within and without, inscribes itself indelibly on the walls of the the vessel of my Being. I contain all these things that take place; and in me, a portion of the great story is written. In each instance, with each impression, I become the scribe who records the events and marks the passages.

Perhaps I can begin to sense a sacred purpose here; to be an intermediary,  a bard who sings not with his tongue, in songs the birds can hear, but whose songs are played within, according to a hymnal which was first opened when life sprang up from the earth and knew, from the beginning, that it was prayer itself.

I see how the earth is filled with green things, red birds, mysteries so great I have no choice but to reduce them to the ordinary; and yet—

and yet.

I am waiting here to see what the next moment will say; perhaps it will say,

I am the language of the Lord.



May your soul be filled with light.

    


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