I had a good cry this morning. Gilbert is front and center this weekend. Thursday it was a year since he had his stroke. Today a tear ago we were told he had stage four peritoneal and appendix cancer. Tomorrow is our anniversary.
In my tears I had an insight. I entered into his fantasy world, believing him and his stories. It was a fantasy, a delusion carefully and elaborately constructed. I fell into his trap, as it seemed a healing balm of calm and peace. But it was not.
Then I saw most people, most of the time live in a fantasy world, upset by third hand stories controlled by other people, totally engaged fun an array of fleeting outer things --- and missing the miraculous all around and in everything. We put on blinders and binders and miss what's really going on.
This place, this dimension is a shimmering outpouring of the magnificent Creator. From the physics of the atom and its tiny parts and strange abilities, to the little brown hard speck that becomes a flower, to the two half cells that become a human --- to anything we turn to, there is the miraculous. To the great art and music flowing out of the minds of the artist souls, to the heart of compassion reaching out to others, there is the miraculous. From the giant redwoods to mountaintops to ocean waves, there us the miraculous. To the immense variety of life that is, has been, and is yet to come, there is the miraculous.
It is a sacred creation, waiting to be read, appreciated, and to lead us home out of the fantasy to the fantastic
