"I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven. Whether it was in the body or out of the body I do not know--God knows." Apostle Paul
I started meditating. Metta. It is fabulous. People who are unaware of my spiritual transformation might be surprised. Worried even. I come from a religious background that does not approve of such goings on. I come from a religious background of hellfire and brimstone, punishment. Meditation was for hell bound hippies and what not. It was right up there with witchcraft, voodoo and devil worship.
But something happened to me a few years back. As bizarre as it may sound, I started driving for Uber. I did over 3000 rides. And somewhere along the way I fell in love . . . with people. And then I fell in love with me. I saw the face of God in the being's He created in his own image and likeness, and I came to know his loving embrace. When that happen all thoughts a fear of hell disappeared. I can no longer believe for even a moment that people go there.
Saturday, January 25, 2020
Wednesday, January 22, 2020
When I was in the eighth grade, we moved to a small farm in Lee County Virginia. Our farm was down a long, long gravel road, back in what the locals called a holler. The path to our front door was down a steep hill. We drove straight through a small creek and into our yard. That little place was lush and beautiful, nestled in the tiniest of valley at the foot of very steep hills - or I guess mountains.
Our water was spring water that came right out of the side of the mountain, and into the little creek that traversed our drive. It was the background music to our lives there. Next to the creek was a large weeping willow, and beyond that was a beautiful tranquil pond. We watched the dragon flies dart across the water, and the tadpoles transform. Behind our house was the rest of our property, which jutted harshly right up the side of the mountain.
Besides our white ranch house tucked in the back corner against the base of the mountain, there were various out-buildings scattered about on the property. I remember a barn another open garage type of building and a root cellar. I was fascinated with the root cellar. It was a very small building dug into the side of the mountain. I opened the door to three dirt walls lined with shelves and old abandoned canned goods. There was also an ice house, a small one. It once house the large blocks of ice needed to fill an old-fashioned icebox and it smelled of sawdust. All of the buildings were made of the weathered grey would that is common in that part of the country.
There was a dirt road that twisted its way to the top of the mountain. In the summer months the side of the mountain would be covered in blackberries, more than we could ever hope to pick. I loved to climb to the top of the mountain and sit. You could see for miles, rolling hill upon rolling hill, and in the distance, the White Rocks. The White rocks were stunningly gorgeous cliffs far in the distance. They were one of the landmarks the early settlers would look for on their way to Cumberland Gap - just up the road.
That little farm back in the holler held a wealth of beauty that belied its size.
Our water was spring water that came right out of the side of the mountain, and into the little creek that traversed our drive. It was the background music to our lives there. Next to the creek was a large weeping willow, and beyond that was a beautiful tranquil pond. We watched the dragon flies dart across the water, and the tadpoles transform. Behind our house was the rest of our property, which jutted harshly right up the side of the mountain.
Besides our white ranch house tucked in the back corner against the base of the mountain, there were various out-buildings scattered about on the property. I remember a barn another open garage type of building and a root cellar. I was fascinated with the root cellar. It was a very small building dug into the side of the mountain. I opened the door to three dirt walls lined with shelves and old abandoned canned goods. There was also an ice house, a small one. It once house the large blocks of ice needed to fill an old-fashioned icebox and it smelled of sawdust. All of the buildings were made of the weathered grey would that is common in that part of the country.
There was a dirt road that twisted its way to the top of the mountain. In the summer months the side of the mountain would be covered in blackberries, more than we could ever hope to pick. I loved to climb to the top of the mountain and sit. You could see for miles, rolling hill upon rolling hill, and in the distance, the White Rocks. The White rocks were stunningly gorgeous cliffs far in the distance. They were one of the landmarks the early settlers would look for on their way to Cumberland Gap - just up the road.
That little farm back in the holler held a wealth of beauty that belied its size.
Saturday, January 18, 2020
The Granary
Our farm had many outbuildings. There was the big red barn. It housed the cattle, various live stock and the Hay, Straw and feed. There was also the chicken coop. It did precious little to inhibit the various predators who exhibited amazing skill at gaining access to dinner in the form of our hens. There was also a granary.
This building had a main room, with two long halls running down the length of both sides. These halls would be filled with field corn. The happy home of many a rat and mouse. There was a second floor to the granary that was accessed by a ladder peaking up through a small square hole. I lived for several years on the farm oblivious to the second floor.
As I became an adolescent, I became curious about the ladder. I climbed up and discovered that the second floor was empty save a long conveyor belt and a large square window at the opposite end of the floor. The only other thing that filled that room was sunlight. Glorious golden sunlight. It filled that room with a radiance that mesmerized me. And when I saw it, it filled me up.
I had found my place. My quiet place, which I would frequently escape to. I would climb the ladder, sit with my back against the wall and drink in that sunlight until I was intoxicated. It is still intoxicating, though only seen through my minds eye.
This building had a main room, with two long halls running down the length of both sides. These halls would be filled with field corn. The happy home of many a rat and mouse. There was a second floor to the granary that was accessed by a ladder peaking up through a small square hole. I lived for several years on the farm oblivious to the second floor.
As I became an adolescent, I became curious about the ladder. I climbed up and discovered that the second floor was empty save a long conveyor belt and a large square window at the opposite end of the floor. The only other thing that filled that room was sunlight. Glorious golden sunlight. It filled that room with a radiance that mesmerized me. And when I saw it, it filled me up.
I had found my place. My quiet place, which I would frequently escape to. I would climb the ladder, sit with my back against the wall and drink in that sunlight until I was intoxicated. It is still intoxicating, though only seen through my minds eye.
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