Here I lay on the patio, on a chaise lounge, the third day
of a new fall. The sun is bright but setting and the shimmering leaves glisten,
backlit by that radiant ball of fire, giving the atmosphere an ambiance
ethereal. The leaves crackle in the strong breeze, snapping ever more crisply as
their life’s blood retreats back into the roots of their mother tree,
disappearing until the dawn of spring next year.
The wispiness of the moment leaves me hanging, suspended in
a state between the last event of my life and the next, free of what has been
done and what needs to be done. Are these the times when I allow God’s loving
tendrils to permeate my mind? Is this when God can best speak to me? I have a
sense that it is.
But, before long I become aware of the state of my being and
become enthralled by the freedom it provides. In my desire to grab hold of the
moment and keep it as a remembrance, I find my laptop and begin to write, to
possess the moment. In so doing that moment in God fades away, a mystical
moment that I desired to wrap my arms around only to embrace myself.
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