My writing teacher says she likes to know where she is when she reads my words. ‘Where has the writer placed me?’ I think about this before setting my pencil to paper. She is teaching me great things. I am learning. I am eye to eye with the clouds. The wings are behind me. Earth lies below in a pattern of patchwork pieces. I don’t expect to see a heart sprawled out lying lazy across the land but I do.
Yesterday at home the sky was white against blue water, today, from my seat in the air, it is bluer than blue, above an ocean of white—a horizon transposed by ethereal waves.
A misty veil descends blurring the line of divide. Sky against sky, my gaze is heavenward, my thoughts fall to earth.
From where I sit the ground I walk on is in the depths, the heavens, the heights beyond. All is white. I am in the center of the clouds and just for a moment, I am immersed—a baptism—there is no more divide. Even the ice on the window looks dirty against this Light.
But darkness is as light to Him and I, like the Psalmist, am certain there is nothing that can separate us. I am in Him, He is in me. This is oneness.
The white is thick and dense, the light too bright. I see no earth below. It is here I am able to ‘see’ the Words I have just read. I will not conform to the patterns of the world but be transformed, as was the horizon by Heaven’s heights. This is the renewing of a mind.
Yes, it’s a great thing to be taught by a great Teacher.
Both of them.
(Psalm 139, Romans 12)