By Diane Taylor
It is dusk, dinner is done, my dog is curled up in front of the heat register and my cat is sleeping on a rug near the front door. I sit down in my soft, green armchair; it is comfortable even though my feet dangle and don't quite reach the floor. Leaning back I slow my breathing until I feel an immense stillness envelop me. Calm descends with the pink glow on the windows of the setting sun.
My mind opens, reaches out towards Jesus. I tell him that I am worried. I smile at this because I always can find something to worry about. Lately, I have been plagued with doubts and loneliness. How will I pay the gas bill next month? Should I try harder to find more work? How will I pay the house insurance? As I list my worries I begin to realize how silly and even trite they must seem to Jesus. I laugh at my own follies.
Then I talk to Jesus about a young boy I know; I can see a big problem brewing in his life. I ask Jesus to help him. I ask Jesus to help all the children I know and care about because I know that he loves all children just as he loves me.
At the thought of Jesus' love for me, I feel his smile penetrate through my psyche, my soul, my mind. His presence pours into me like a silver moonbeam through the night. Our souls entwine in love. Peace descends and brings with it the cessation of worry, the weight of years tumble and flow away. His serenity and silent tranquility has enveloped my body like a comforting, well-worn glove. My heart swells and grows as if to fill the room, the globe, the universe in one single, breathless, silent, all-encompassing moment lingering in forever time--then is done.
I feel my leg twitch and my eyes blink open as I wait a quiet minute longer in the chair relishing the feeling of solemnity, grasping to hold the fullness of being just one moment longer.
I would stretch and keep the feeling forever, but--enough! I have work to do, a letter on the computer that needs a finishing touch, a painting still to be worked on, dishes wait in the sink, my list of work undone still sits open on the table. I get up from the chair. The room has turned dark except for a streetlight shinning through the front room window; a dog barks down the street, a car radio blasts rap music into the house, booming and rattling the windows. I turn on the light to re-contemplate the world.
Later when my granddaughter Ashley telephones, I don't talk to her about Jesus. I don't talk about Jesus at work either, or to neighbors, my family, to anyone because the occasion or opportunity seldom comes up. Regardless, Jesus is always with me. The evidence of his presence is reflected in my interactions with other people as I live out each day. I can more easily brush off the little accumulations of hurt, pain, mistakes, rebukes, worries, loneliness, and feelings of anxiety. Troubles don't penetrate as deep as they once did. Heaven is ever awake and Jesus' eternal presence encircles me in a blanket of mystical love.
Mystical love is subtle but ever present; it is a union of love between God and the human spirit. Although you may not have thought of yourself in such a way, many of you are already mystics. A mystic is a person who communicates with the Universal Ground of Being. In other words, a person who talks to Jesus within their heart and mind is a mystic. Often at Sunday Mass, as I sit or kneel during service, I feel a sense of comfort and shared comrade hovering within the church. This feeling of togetherness is only possible because we hold Jesus' love in common.
Amazingly, anyone can become a member of this union; you don't need to be a Saint or Super Person to be a mystic, all you need is a heart full of love for Jesus and the urge to talk to him. If you feel that urge, open your mind and speak; you will be ever changed. Once you talk with Jesus, his essence will encompass your heart forever; you will become one with the many shareholders in his silent love.
The end
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