Wellsprings

"You and I have been offered an unique observation point." So begins "Wellsprings," a brief essay from my book, Thin Places and Five Clues. Wellsprings was mentioned by a recent reader as being particularly noteworthy for him. It is included in this blog post as a metaphorical plea for us to work together for local, regional, national and world peace.

Wellsprings

"You and I have been offered an unique observation point. From it we can see groups of people gathered around dozens of hand-dug wells, peering down the open excavations, straining to get a glimpse of the Great Overflow Dynamic, as it is called. It is known as the river of life. Deep below -- running through all of the wells and connecting each invisibly with a dynamic energy, the juncture of which is usually missed by the excavators above.

Each of the well sites has a sign designating its claim to the Dynamic. Some hold the sign high, proudly exclaiming the superior location of its site and thus the best access. Others use their sign as a shovel to scrape away the loose soil from around the opening. Others use the sign only to confirm their location.

We observe fights breaking out at some of the sites, people pushing and shoving each other, throwing stones towards other well sites which are believed inferior and a threat to the source Dynamic. Others strain to get into a better position near the deep void, to peer below - often loosening the soil and causing clumps and rocks to fall into the well -- splashing into the pure water below, and enraging the crowds into accusations and disciplines.

But, the pollution, as they shout at each other, is not realized to extend to all of the wells since they are all served by the same great source. Those at adjoining wells look over in disdain while lulling in comfort about the purity of their well. While the splashes of debris are not recognized as a temporary and natural process the river uses in its own dynamics.

There is an endless array of sites stretching out beyond us, some with large groups, some with just a few huddled together peering down into the shaft. Some with one person. Some sites are vacant...perhaps abandoned. And, some which apparently are only drawn to the crowds are clustered around dirt only. No well. Just a staked claim, in dirt, for they see only holes at the other sites and not the source below. They see only dirt and empty holes. Yet the Great Overflow Dynamic energy still mingles below.

Murmurings abound, mostly honoring access points to the Great Overflow Dynamic. It has become symbolized among those gathered. Some refer to it as G.O.D. Others as simply GOD. Others portray it as the Great Spirit. The site signs are raised high in celebration as the groups cheer around some internal signal. One sign reads Jewish. Another Presbyterian. Independent Thinker. Buddhist. Islam. And on and on.

Yet, we can sense from our observation point that each expression is veritably sacred at its core. Not because of the fashion of their apertures in the earth. Nor because of their signs nor their proclamations, which often are against each other. Their loving sacredness emanates from each, in their own way, craving to tap the fringes, the hemline, the small bits of seemingly imperceptible and imponderable vapors of the Great Dynamic through their own crude wells. Our own wells. Pinholes in the vast infinite cosmic sea of GOD."

Copyright (c) 2009 C. Page Highfill, all rights reserved

Through the Gate

The other day I received an e-mail from Don, a college classmate of mine who had just finished reading my book on Thin Places. He had some good comments including the mention that his wife had obtained six additional copies of the book to give to friends. Wow! Thanks. But it was his ending p.s. which really caught my attention. I have always admired Don's special talents. Even our professors saw that specialness, and so often gave him a better grade on communicating certain projects than the rest of us. Maybe we still got better grades than we deserved. But my friend Don always spoke with that certain authority of genuineness that is in itself a source of learning for the rest of us. He still does.

At the end of his comments, he noted two pieces of my writing in the book which really jumped out at him. One was a summary I had made of a poem I had written and included in the book describing my Thin Place experience at Kingsmill, Virginia, a stone's throw from where this Country was born. The other piece was an essay I included at the end of the book entitled "Wellsprings."

His thoughts have become an outline for this and the next blog post here. Below is the poem, then the summary, both from my book, "Thin Places and Five Clues in Their Architecture." My next post here will be "Wellsprings." Thanks Don.

Stale leaves crackled

against the rusty old gate

hung heavy on thick hinges

spiked deep in stubborn piers

near Jamestown, Virginia

hushed in off-season quiet

under a November dawn.

Its iron bars still gate tough,

with rods and hard welds

fixed like an opaque now, while

sensual spaces between bars

pave transparent avenues,

where dreams and time flirt

with the mooring river beyond,

among whispering ruffles, which

tickle tree roots along the shore.

And there, mingled in the mist

guarding its river secrets,

stands the veiled outline of a sailor

silhouetted below the yellow sky

staring across the river slick

at a small ship anchored in the fog

freighted with a handful of seeds,

navigated by gauges of passion,

fueled by winds yet forgotten.

He then leaned to the craft,

hollowed hands at his mouth

and megaphoned a discovery

out to tuned ears on board,

while I stood there mute, peering

through the gate's cold grid,

stretching against today's bind.

"Bring the others!" He shouted

joyfully in English tone with

unquestionable authority,

lofted out at the shadowing ship,

berthed just off shore, and

a few hundred years away.

"And the tools,"

he hollered again, loudly,

bellowing - "This is the place!”

And so it was, soon to be,

when a grandson, now long dead

might have built this 2-way gate,

to divide and separate,

yet open a glimpse of history,

this place to birth a destiny

right here -- through the gate.

We are all a part of a gate to potential Thin Places for others, aren't we?  Thus, we encourage others to look not "at" us for all they will see is rust, broken pieces, bent hinges and other examples of the opaque now.  We hope instead that we may inspire others to see the spaces between the bars, the moments when a light shines through us, to illuminate the transparency of the Cosmic Truth, and His fingerprints all around and through us.

Copyright (C) C. Page Highfill, all rights reserved