(an old blog post I wrote back in 2019)
I had a dream the other night. I was explaining something to someone. It was something important that they needed to know. When I woke up, I thought I should write it down so that I wouldn’t forget it, but I didn’t.
I tried to remember it this morning, days later, and you know how it is with dreams. They are like images in clouds that dissipate with a gust of wind. But I tried, and because it was one of those “real” dreams, I finally remembered. So, I will share it with you here, dear reader.
I was telling this person that reading a book one time is like rushing through a beautiful forest to find out what is on the other side. You want to know what happens to the characters. Especially the main character. Will he fall in love? Will she be kidnapped? Who is his arch enemy? What will happen in the end?
Billy Crystal’s character “Harry” in “When Harry met Sally” tells Sally that he is so dark that when he reads a book, he reads the last page right away so that if he dies suddenly, he’ll know how the story ends. Funny. But really, don’t most of us hurry through to find out the important parts, the key turns and climaxes? It’s like the Where’s Waldo books. The goal is to find Waldo. Once you find him on one page, you turn that page and try to find him on the next. The hundreds of other people and things on the pages can be passed over quickly on your quest. Ah! There he is! Next page.
I re-read good books. Maybe that’s why. I rushed through the first time to find out what happens to Frodo or to Harry Potter or Esther Summerson (Bleak House,) How much did I miss while I was so eagerly following my protagonist?
In the dream, I told my friend, you’ve missed so much in the forest just by rushing to get to the other side. The first time you go through, the obvious things stand out. It’s cold. It’s raining. It’s day. It’s night. But rewind. Go back and go through again. Now what do you see? A certain flower was growing to the left of the path that had the most unique shade of blue to it. A root from a huge tree made you leap to avoid tripping over it. There was a squirrel that scattered up a tree as you got closer to it.
Then go back again. You are walking slowly. You are in no hurry. You already know that the protagonist wins the day, Harry defeats Voldemort, Frodo and Gollum take care of getting that ring melted for good, Esther marries the doctor. You don’t need to follow on their heels so closely.
Now you see that the light of the sun or the full moon is streaming down through the branches in such a magical way, making the place seem holy. You even stop to sit on that log that you hadn’t noticed before. You listen to the sounds of the forest that previously you couldn’t hear, because your tramping made so much noise. The dew gathering into droplets and falling to the forest floor. The birds. The insects. The breeze playing the leaves like a conductor leading a well established orchestra playing a symphony for the first time. All of its symphonies are played only once, and you are hearing this one. Maybe you are the only one that will ever hear it. Sacred
Now, dear reader, let’s shift. From books to life. From forest to home or office or car or wherever you find yourself day in and day out. Some people believe in re-incarnation. We just keep coming back and coming back until we get the damn thing right. I don’t know about that. I have never given it much thought. The concept doesn’t make sense to me. But as I think of the things in my dream and the things I’ve just written, I wonder about another thing.
I have been through a thing or two in my life. In looking back, they seem like contractions during childbirth. There are the times that are so painful that they are almost unbearable, and then the times between contractions when the pain subsides and you rest. And in the end, if all goes well, you are holding onto the greatest treasure your human eyes have ever beheld.
So in life, I go through a horror, and then I go through a time of peace, and then another storm, and then the sun comes out again and the rain is forgotten. This happens and happens. Dear reader, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. So, maybe these contractions are like chances we’ve been given over and over again until we can slow down and see the glory of God, silent and sacred, a beautiful life held to our hearts, all we can do is stare and wonder and soak in that moment. That moment that holds every moment. Because really, there is no time or place. There is only here and now.
Take a look at it. Smell it. Breathe it. How does it feel? The next moment is coming, and that moment will be new and yet still be the only moment that has ever existed. Such a mystery…..
