LINES

It’s easy to get lost in the wilderness, easy to get lost in dream. When the ego and dream meet, life gets sticky and the line becomes blurred, the line between the real and the false. Yet, the false magnifies beyond proportion so you can never say you did not know, that you could not see. The false begins to envelop you, flow through you, swirl around you and you cannot deny what is being presented. But you dance the little dance because ego is greater than you until you are so consumed by it that suddenly the false becomes the truth, your truth. Now, you have a little problem on your hands.

One must never let the false become truth.

Now, you find yourself playing with want and need. Life used to be so much simpler when I was a child and I did not care either way, when doubt was non-existent, and I was pure. Now, I tap dance between the clouds, between the illusion of my past and future, not quite satisfied with the present. What is it that awakens here in this space? I ought to be thankful for illusion. No? It serves a purpose when we bring attention to it. How am I able to recognize illusion and still be in denial?

Back in the day, Jesus and I, we had a little talk and I shared a few things. He knew what I wished for, what I longed for, what was in my heart. I also understood quite early, that what he wished for me would not mesh with what I wished for myself, at least, not in any way that made sense to me. Jesus moves in circles. I like keeping things straight. He keeps moving the lines, keeps creating spaces and more spaces with lines in places I had not imagined. He and I, we understand each other, to a point. I don’t remember a time when he was not there. He tells me there are things I can have and things I cannot have and that this is right and one day I will understand.

But even when he speaks, I see myself playing with the lines, drawing them back to the way I think they ought to be placed. And he smiles because he knows it is the only way I’ll see what I need to see...the hard way. These lines, the more I play with them, they get heavier, harder to move, to manipulate, like I’m playing a game I cannot win because I’m playing by rules I don’t understand.

My Beloved, he is so persistent and unwavering. I cannot escape him. Not that I really want to. It’s just that, he expects me to always have an open heart, beyond myself. He keeps telling me I can contain more and more and more. I argue with him. I tell him I don’t understand how that is possible without breaking down, without getting sick, without losing my foothold, without bursting. Then he continues, "Well yes, if you don’t give it away, if you don’t share. You must let it flow..." I ask him why he has to bother with me like this. He says I’m seeing this all from the wrong place. Ugh.

Sometimes when we sit together, his eyes are fixed on a certain spot. I just stare at him. I love looking at him. With him, I do not worry or hesitate or doubt. I see all of my weaknesses and that this is okay. Through him, I can do many things. Through him, I develop strength. My tears, they flow, as though from a fountain, uncontrollably. Every now and then, he looks up and I catch a glimpse of myself. Extremely painful. His eyes move down again. I can feel his love all around. He is Love. I am obliterated in his presence.

But still, I fight with him. I wrestle. I demand he give me answers. The more I demand, the less I receive. No, no. The less I am able to see my blessings. Jesus does not withhold. He asks me why he is not enough. How can he ask this? How can he think that is fair? What does that say about me, that my Beloved is not enough? What does that mean? Doesn’t he see what I am? I am only human. He won’t let me play with conscience, won’t let me make errors. He remains stationary. In a sense, he is continually interceding in my affairs. Divine intervention, I suppose?

He protects me. He guides me. Lately, I’d like for him to take a back seat, to sit and watch from a distance, to give me some space. And so he draws closer! He sees I want to fool myself and insists this will not happen. He creates a picture around me with his finger. I am now standing barefoot in a field of grass, trees to my right, trees to my left, flowers all about, open sky, tranquil waters, unimaginable beauty and colour and scents. My face lights up. Then, he draws a snake and breathes life into it, places it by a tree near by. I stare at him perplexed. He says nothing is either good or bad. He says the snake is necessary for my development. He says I’ll learn nothing without the creature.

He says that all of these pictures he creates for me, they stem from the talk we had in the past. He says that I had asked and so he is delivering. He says that I knocked and so he opened the door. He says that I have to trust him, how he works and constructs, how he ultimately plays with the lines. When he sees that I am ready, he will let me create my own pictures.