Spirit is a master weaver, weaving together fragments of our lives in miraculous and wondrous ways – even when years separate the threads and they seem to have no connection until viewed years later when at last they meet unexpectedly.
This story spans decades and transforms the tragedy of a fire into a gift, and a long ago forgotten verse, written about a train ride, into a symbol to teach me that age doesn’t affect the knowledge that remains safely sealed within…protected even from the ravages of a fire.
By the time I recognized the connection, more than 30 years have passed and I have a high enough view to see that many patches of experiences stand between them – like the view from the window of a plane at takeoff and landing, when the earth below looks like a patchwork of squares.
I have kept a journal ever since I was a girl. Unfortunately most of my early writings were lost when a fire to my home destroyed half the house, including the whole top floor where my bedroom and my journals were located.
Looking back, I can see that it was a purification of my past, erasing the materials and memories that no longer served me. At first I mourned their passing, not so much the material – for I knew that could be replaced – but my journals were gone forever except for snippets still alive in my memory. I didn’t yet know that I had lost nothing valuable.
Years after the fire, after I had been studying A Course in Miracles, read the text and completed the workbook lessons, I began to understand what this passage from the Manual of Teachers meant and could see the experience of the fire as training in the development of trust.
The fire removed what was valueless (all of my personal stuff) but didn’t touch what was within me to keep – the glimpses of Truth that has no regard for age or wisdom or time, told in a story, a poem, a dream, written in my mind, to be used as a symbol by Spirit whenever helpful.
One of the writings that stayed with me is a poem I wrote at the age of 21 when I was traveling in Italy from the city of Ravenna on the northern Adriatic coast to visit Florence for the first time. As I sat on the train reading The Agony and the Ecstasy a biographical novel of the life of Michelangelo, my excitement grew as I was anticipating sitting on the same steps of the Duomo where he had had so many mystical discussions with Leonardo da Vinci.
As hard as it was tearing myself from this captivating book, the passing landscape outside the windows of the train, was stronger and soon I became lost in a meditation, lulled by the rhythm of the train. This short poem is the result.
May you always live in harmony,
And now, over to you. Share your thoughts, experiences and questions in the comments below. As always I love it when you stay engaged.