I see You more and more each day. All I need do, is look for You. Kinda scrunch up my mind a bit, squint, and let my Self go.
Try to “feel” You. And I do! All Blessed You. In just the right amount to fill a soul that wishes it were bigger, larger to contain more and more of Your Love that’s omnipresent, all around me. And in me.
You were in Vietnam, weren’t You? Protecting me and the men in my platoon. There, when the medic wrapped his foot in a bandage, laced up his boot, and shot his foot to get out of the “field. There, when I called mortar fire against the enemy and it accidentally landed on half of one of my squads. There, when someone shot and killed Lt. Vic Ellinger.
I did not know why back then. I still can’t comprehend it. But, it was all for the Good, wasn’t it? Forty years later, I’m seeing You as clear as day. In all the so-called “pain and suffering” you sent my way. (And more that might come my way.) I don’t have the answers why tragedy and chaos erupts in one’s life. But, You restored order; You brought joy out from the suffering. The same way a Smith forges a fine metal sword, by first putting it through a fire. It needs to be sharpened, balanced and made ready to help a warrior do battle with the next challenge, the next Dragon that needs slaying.
I thought it was the ego that I had to kill. To smash to a pulp. To eradicate. But You appeared (in the form of two women), advising me that one need not get rid of the ego, but “tame” it, “control” it, make it “work for You.”
And, last week You came to me as someone desperate, in need of friends after five years of major depression, the first two years afraid (unwilling?) to get out of bed, and only now returning to Life, taking each lonely step as the “pull” helps in the ascension to a higher consciousness, one to replace the old one stilled and kept in exile awaiting Full Disclosure.
I got a meditation pamphlet for You to read. Went to WON Institute for accupuncture Thursday, and felt compelled to take the handout, intending to give it to the You, the person you first appeared, a sorrowful Jewish woman, but ended up “gifting” it to a Venezuelan girl, one I call my Dark Madonna.
We met at IKEA Friday morning, and I gave her the information in hopes that she’ll explore this vehicle to another plane. She already suggested that she and I meet to help the traumatic brain-injured friend I have. I suggested one other person, remembering that the number “four” is better suited for an ongoing meditating practice. The Dark Madonna came to me out of a prayer, I did not know I had even said. You appeared somehow, whispered to her, and she left her home and appeared at the breakfast table as if out of a dream. A Venus on a clamshell. A Life-saver.