Sometimes I believe--if "believe" is still the word--that every moment lives on forever, that even past days are stored away somewhere, fully alive, deep in the consciousness of the Universe, existing as we once knew them, continuing forever and ever, world without end.
Sometimes I hope--if "hope" is still the word--that there's such a thing as Still Life...that pictures, and photographs, and faded portraits from bygone days are merely shadows of things that truly are, no matter how long past they seem. Perhaps even imagined scenes are real.
I've called this notion "Still Life." It's the hope that none of our best yesterdays is forgotten, but that they live on forever in the very life of God. And by "God," I don't mean the Big Bearded One. I mean the only God I believe in: The Ultimate Reality, The Ground of All Being, The Mystery that I encounter in the forest (and sometimes even in religious edifices and rites) The Holy Trinity of Life, Love, and Joy.
I hope--even if I can't quite believe--that our unforgotten selves live on in some other dimension. Perhaps I stand forever on the brink of this stony valley, far away. Maybe our best, and happiest, and most fully alive selves live on forever. They're frozen in time, and we cycle back around to them eventually. Maybe nothing is lost. Maybe we get it all back in the end. It's something to wish for, and what's the world without wishes? What's a New Year without a few fond yearnings?
No comments:
Post a Comment