Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Bridging the Little Gap

[This is written in first person – “I.” It is meant to be read in first person, with the “I” being you, the reader.]

Spirit builds a bridge to Itself across the little gap, but only in the space left clean and vacant by the miracle. The seeds of sickness and the shame of guilt It cannot bridge, for It can not destroy the alien will It did not create. If I let the gap’s effects be gone and won’t clutch them eagerly to keep them for myself; the miracle will brush them all aside, thus making room to bridge the gap and return me to Itself.

As I count the silver miracles and golden dreams of happiness as all the treasures I’ll keep within the storehouse of the world, I awaken to my reality. What is the world except a little gap perceived to tear eternity apart, and break it into days and months and years? And what am I who live within the world except a picture of a child of God, broken into pieces, each concealed within a separate and uncertain bit of clay?

I will not be afraid but let my world be lit by miracles. And where the gap is seen to stand between my siblings and I, I will join them there. And sickness will be without a cause. The dream of healing lies in forgiveness, gently showing we never sinned. Like the sea rushing in to cover and smooth the ship’s wake, the miracle would leave no proof of guilt or bring witness to what never was.

And in my storehouse, will be a welcome for my siblings and God. The door is open so all those who have had enough of starvation, fear and anger may come and feast and no longer cherish illusions, dark dreams and sickness. It will be a feast like nothing the world has known. For here, the more that anyone receives, the more is left for all the rest to share. No one is deprived or can deprive. Here is a feast the spirit lays before its children, to share equally with them. And in their sharing there can be no gap in which abundance falters and grows thin. Here the lean years never enter and time waits not upon this feast, which has no end. For Love has set its table in the gap, the space that seemed to keep my guests apart from me.

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