Last night I slept in a room which was white. There was no internet connection. There was no outside influence. There was nothing belonging to me or to anyone.
There was a bed, and a chair with two white cushions, a side board with a mirror, and a bedside cabinet with a lamp. It was clean and empty and fresh and beautiful and filled with nothingness.
It was a perfect temperature. It was a beautiful safe environment, I don’t mean safe as if to mean that any other place was unsafe, but it encompassed me within its safe, warm tender, gentle, pure plane. It was as if I were on retreat.
It was beautiful to be in a place which was neutral. It was beautiful to arrive in this place having arrived in my sackcloth, to undress and to lay down and then without fear to allow the ashes to blow where the spirit wanted to blow them.
It was beautiful to sleep with nothing ‘material’ between God and I. Nothing. I didn’t even consciously pray. I thought. I slept. I am . . . just allowed to be.
I woke naturally at the right time. I simply washed. I dressed. And then I came back to my own home.
I came back to my own home to work upon my final assignment, and the assignment that I deferred.
I re-connected to the internet with all its infections. Back ‘here’ ‘Man’ on the net and man in the home was waiting for me with his subliminal influence and his percolating ways.
For now it is here that I know that I have a job to do, I know that for myself I have to finish my degree. I know that this means being connected in the day-time to my desk and to the computer.
My focus for the next several weeks has to be narrowed to here. I have to finish my degree. The degree which in my head I have already finished with . . . before the finishing. It’s the hardest thing.
I know that man is ‘here’ working too.
But I also know that at the end of each day I have an actual white room at my disposal. And I also know that the return to the white room is the beginning of something beautiful and new. Something beyond a white room. This something that man in his perversion and venality has corrupted beyond all hope, has allowed me in the hopelessness to walk out of my spiritual self like a snake shedding his or her skin, to a place where new skins are irrelevant.
As I type Henri Nouwen’s daily reflection pings in to my inbox;
Empowered to Be
Who are we? Are we what we do? Are we what others say about us? Are we the power we have? It often seems that way in our society. But the Spirit of Jesus given to us reveals our true spiritual identities. The Spirit reveals that we belong not to a world of success, fame, or power but to God. The world enslaves us with fear; the Spirit frees us from that slavery and restores us to the true relationship. That is what Paul means when he says: “All who are guided by the Spirit of God are sons [daughters] of God, for what you received was not the spirit of slavery to bring you back into fear; you received the spirit of adoption, enabling us to cry out, ‘Abba, Father!'” (Romans 8:15).
Who are we? We are God’s beloved sons and daughters!
Mary had to have her heart pierced.
Our Lord had His side pierced.
There is a mythical bird that is pierced with a fatal thorn and it never sings a song more beautiful than its dying song, whereby Heaven is revealed. This is but a myth.
But myths reveal truths and the truth of that myth is that in loving so fully we die so completely, the deepest pain mirrors the highest joy. The most absolute rejection mirrors the most absolute belonging.
And to be impaled so absolutely with the Holy Spirit of Love mirrors nothing other than the Holy Spirit of Love so absolute in its radiation.
God creating and dwelling within us; in the image and likeness of God.