The bare ice-covered trees are etched by the clarity of the blue sky. Behind where I am sitting, the edge of the forest forms a front line guarding untold secrets, not to be violated. In front of me are the mountains, white to their feet, keeping the line too. But there is so little wonder left in the hearts of men and women. Their heads down, missing the scent of the rose. Their lives all they know, all they want to know.
There is a road before me, leading ever on. The road to Damascus and beyond. I know I will continue to have amazing experiences, meet amazing people, everywhere on this wide, blue planet. And knowing that, my every thought, my dreams, my waking moments, are all imbued with a sad-sweet melancholy, a deep longing, a door ajar and beyond it a bright light. The thousands of faces, the innumerable destinations that I carry within me blend and fuse. Past and future, existing in every moment of the present, travelling with me.
And this melancholy, this longing? It is the longing one day to come home. It is an essential part of being an eternal being in a finite context. Every day and every night, waking and sleeping, a chance to open one’s eyes and see the infinite that envelopes the finite bubble in which we float. True love comes through understanding said the Buddha. Yes, love is that door ajar, leading to eternity.
Aramaic, the Desert Fathers, Nag Hamadi, Qumran, the Celtic Fringe, a swift sunrise, a white shore, a far green country, a never-dying land. This is my holy grail or better said, these are the signposts to my holy grail. The grail an objectification of the eternal longing in all of us. Of the divine in all of us, longing to be fully reunited with its source and issuer.
And these are the tales from nine days that have brought me closer to it.
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