I hate drawing the curtains at night.
I can’t see out. The big beautiful expanse gets cut off. There’s no pondering the stars that leak through the dominant city lights. I can’t see the people taking their evening walk or the clouds reflecting the setting sun…
I know how dogs feel, nose pressed against the window intently watchful of passersby or barking at unexpected movements (swaying tree branches, squirrels, other dogs).
I mean if I can’t get out, at least let me look!
But nope, the curtains must be closed. Somebody, somewhere said it was safer for security reasons. The potential “ne’ re do wells” can’t see inside.
I get it but what would they really see?
There is no stereo, my computer is too old and my cell phone (not an I phone) ain’t worth the bother. I triple dog dare anybody to try and move my dad’s upright piano!
Our TV is pathetic and I have no jewels to hide. Our “well worn” clothes lack trendy labels and our appliances (with the exception of the toaster oven) are “seasoned” but not yet antiques. Hahaha! A criminal would be very depressed to see how simply we live.
I guess I DO close the curtains in some respects.
There’s a shell, a protection from the world, things I shroud in metaphor so that the message will be heard but sometimes the stories stay inside me. Many have stopped sharing. It has become too risky. The criticisms come fast and heavy.
Still, the Divine pursues me.
A red headed holy woman who took time from driving across Canada in an RV to meet me in a vegan restaurant lifted my spiritual veil this week. The curtains were opened and I sat before her. The vulnerable seeker was in full view, hungry to hear from another spiritual pilgrim.
It didn’t take long before I was basking in her profound energy, wise words and life story recollections. It was definitely sacred. I was letting the light back in.
I had always admired her. She spoke with such humility as she shared her most recent courses and research. She spoke of plant-based diet versus meat, environmental concerns, the beauty of the life force, Richard Rohr, faith in the unseen, smudging, Richard Wagamese, Mary and being a feminist.
Just before we said goodbye she held me in the most comforting warm embrace and whispered sweet affirmations into my ear. Yahweh was there….it was powerful.
Bursts of tears came as I drove home seeing blossoms and light everywhere. I escaped into a nearby café and wrote. Truly this encounter was heaven sent.
Veils do come, life gets cloaked, things become dimmer and the glow of lit candles doesn’t extend far. It’s only a small halo of hope in a world of shadows. But then a chance meeting from an old friend healed everything. The light filled the sky, enveloped me. Strength returned, my feet felt steady and my heart became spiritually secure.
Thank you, Marianne Moroney for your warrior faith, intelligence and fearless pursuit of a better world. I was and am blessed knowing you.