These Then are The Lorelei Visions…

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…Hear then the murmurs of your own heart… the heart of the rock… the soul of the earth…

For it is pointless to argue about God with those who cannot see Him – for if they could see Him there would be no argument and since they can’t – you are left with a curious situation of trying to convince the deaf that the dancers are not insane but responding to “invisible sounds.”

And so I heard the footsteps of Cumméne Fota and he pointed at the Dragon in the sky and said to me while making the sign of the cross… “For the world is an island and we are all destined to learn how to swim.”

Lorelei
Photochrom print (color photo lithograph) – between 1890 and 1905 – Photoglob AG, Zürich, Switzerland or Detroit Publishing Company, Detroit, Michigan “The Lorelei, the Rhine, Germany”

I climbed then the mountain to where the wondering monks were said to make their pilgrimage and they shared their bread and wine with me while their leader Aemilian blessed me and offered me no advice save a raised sword he drew from beneath his cloak.  It was a Klinga and we both smiled.

When I came back to reality the river was gone, the islands of my youth had been swallowed up by the forest of modern discontentment and anxiety and the world was full of machines.  I saw then that a brother Slav was walking with me through the modern world.  I introduced myself and he nodded “I am known as Jozafat, and you make much too much of this modern world, so much so that it will distract you from thought and make your heart full of metal wires.”

For it is also pointless to argue about God with those who wish to see the idea of God simply go away – for if you lose the argument you end up looking ignorant and a fool – and if you win you have not gained a convert – for it is really not your place but God’s to convert – all you can do is step aside.

The dreams ended when the minutes of my age approached and I was left at the foot of the mountain where Moses saw the brain reflected in a bush, the mind of God had been revealed to him as a network of illuminated branches, a labyrinth of complexity.  Nilus then came down from his retreat and led me away to the road of the desert and the wasteland. “Beware of prophesies, for they are of uncertain design. Visions are also to be guarded against.”  What then should I trust?

But all was sand… and I was tossed alone with no sight and no sound… and I stumbled over the bones of a Saint.  A voice deep within me rose up and said… “Trust the word, trust the word of the heart, for it alone is the gateway of God.”  Who are you I yelled?  But the voice of Arastius did not come even if his name was on my lips.

For it is futile to argue about God’s nature with those to whom the argument is about a fictional being defined within the pages of some books. It is like arguing about riding a bicycle with someone who has only seen a picture of it but never rode one. God is an experience.

And then I saw God… and he was riding a bicycle on a modern highway with cars zipping by honking “You old fool, get out of the way”  or “Get a car old geezer!”  … and as he rode by me he smiled and waved, it was one of those double seat types… and I so I ran after him with joy… and he was kind enough to stop so I could get on and help him… “The hill up ahead is quite steep, but it is well worth the climb, for the view from atop is like nothing you have ever seen, and the breeze when you ride into the orchards and the parks… is like love at first sight.”

November 12, 2012

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