I inhale, and at this instance time stood still just long enough to consider and take notice of my surroundings.

The sky is gray like thick smog. The color gray seems to cover everything like ash: from the tents, to the trash on the streets, to the very clothes, skin and faces of the people. As if shame is the color of this world. The magnificent building is visible from most any location due to its size and location. The outer walls have a yellowish color to it with what used to be white trims around the windows. It is the tallest building around, probably 6 to 8 stories and very wide. All enter via a large double door at the center of a row of whitish columns on both sides. The building is regarded like an ancient artifact from a time of myth and legend. But its presence has a voice which whispers a song of a glory forgotten, a magnificence now belittled, and hospitality no longer understood. It is now a mere sanctuary of social status where the clothing is not made dirty by the gray. But the inhabitant’s skin is covered in the same gray as everyone else.

In the market place no one looks up. Everyone’s head’s is tilted, from just a bit downward to grossly hunched over. Even when they conduct business they do not see eye to eye, as if to saying they are not witnessing the very transactions they are involved in. But still much transaction is occurring. Every interaction is a bullet point or a sound bite, then move on to the next shop. They are automatons exchanging information but not connecting. Every bullet point is a bang, every sound bite is clatter, and an angle hits the ground at each one. All are feasting on the trough of this society.

I exhale, and in a counter instance time returns and I’m back in the midst of all the goings on.

Looking around, again I noticed faces watching me, almost covertly, following me with only their eyes. I realize they notice me because, unlike the others, I’m looking up. I lower my head a bit and incline my eyesight down towards to the parking space where I’m awaiting the man I work with. It looks like it has been painted with gold paint. It stands out as long as trash doesn’t cover it. But even the paint looks dirty. I notice the man I worked with returning. He is driving his vehicle through the crowds towards his parking space. His driving attitude reminds me of when I was on a power boat as it made its way through a span of algae growing on the water surface. Both cutting through with no effort, causing a turbulent wake behind it. We immediately made our way back to the magnificent building through the market place.

We reach the point where the market place ends and the property to the magnificent building begins. The main grounds of the building are behind a tall iron fence. The fence stands on top of a short concrete wall. One can easily see through the fence which is as functional as much as it is decorative. We arrive at the gate which is open but guarded by men on both sides. The guards leaning their back casually on the fence do not turn their heads towards us as we walk by, but rather peer at us with their eyes. Well I say us, but it is more towards me they are directing their acknowledgement of my presence. I am realizing the guards and the people watching me at the market place may be of the same organization, and they do not care I am aware of their surveillance. They operate through intimidation rather than authority. But entering the magnificent building, I am still under some type of protection.

Inside, the man and I return to the room where we had been meeting with the young man. He sits on a large executive office chair behind a large polished wooden desk, and I sink into a comfy leather chair with armrests. As I lean back in the chair, the young man struts into the room. Crossing my legs and placing my left elbow in the arm rest, I lift my hand towards my mouth. It is now time for me to do what I am here to do. Attention in now focused on me.

 

Epiphany:

As defined by dictionary.com

1. (initial capital letter) a Christian festival, observed on January 6, commemorating the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles in the persons of the Magi; Twelfth-day.

3. a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.

 

 

And then, I sense as if someone invisible is leaning over to whisper in my ear.  I pause and lose myself in thought for a moment reflecting on whom I am. My purpose in this world, to put it simply, is to speak. In this world, I operate an ability to create motivating thoughts and inspire emotions with words. The words I speak are then arranged into the lyrics of songs. Entertainers are then created to sing and perform these songs. Staring into my own soul has made this rudimentary task of simply speaking to become paralyzed by consciousness.

Proverbs 18:21
Death and life are in the power of the tongue, And those who love it will eat its fruit.

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By some measure of awakening, my conscious is now alive to some manner of reason. How can I now ignore the truth and try to mask it with perceived reality? I know that if I do not speak as expected it will be taken as disunity and I will have no functional purpose in their privileged society. Seen as an antagonist, I will more than likely become prey to the guards at the gate or at the market place. No one out there will come to my aid or acknowledge me. I will simply disappear into the dirt and the gray to which the world conformed to. And now, able to reason for truth, I will wear the gray knowingly if I don’t act accordingly. Feeling a fire in me, I confidently stand from the comfortable chair.

There is a joy inside me, and it grows from an almost forgotten memory. As I open my mouth, bright light from my mouth fills the room. The light covers everything to the point it is all I see. I am at the same time broken and repaired as I surrender to this. An amazing grace has been offered to me. The intensity of the moment seems too great.

ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§ ΑΏ§

 

At this point, I quickly awoke from my sleepiness. Not as startled, but a sharp opening of the eyes and alertness in my senses. As if I had already been awake, just waiting for the dream to end.

In the days to come, I will certainly spend time reflecting on this as I read it again. I am reminded of the lesson of gradual complacency in our walk or gradual diversion from the path. On any path, evidence or reminders of truth are all around; conspicuously and inconspicuously. Sometimes, though, we are blinded to it by many manners of circumstance and choices. It is an evil for the man who knows the right path to not walk it, for he puts his shame on himself. It is a terrible evil for the one who deceives others away from the right path, placing his shame on others. But what of the man who is walking a path of shame and does not know it. Who can then show mercy to this man if the world around him is blind and unwilling to awaken? Who will lean over and whisper to him so he may then say to himself, “I can choose something else”? At this point of this whisper, the path has encountered a great and terrible good.

Why a great and terrible good? Great in it that the deception was too much and I could not have awaken from it on my own. Terrible in realizing that which I had trust and reliance on was false and must now die. Good in that because of someone else’s kindness to me, I can now choose a better way, truth, and life.

 

Proverbs 22:6
Train up a child in the way he should go, And when he is old he will not depart from it.

 

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