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I
just got back and read Jaya Ishayas BB message and was so blessed by it.
Mentioned is how our remembrance of Who We Are is in the non-verbal,
non-visual, non-sensory part of us, and that we try too often and capture
the memory of it (oneness) with our intellect...making our capturing of
the one in any moment more difficult.
It’s
been too long since I spent some vacationing time with my family. The last
2 weeks I did just that in the upper peninsula of Michigan. Two weeks of
skiing, swimming, tubing, fishing, golfing, 4-wheeling...you know, all of
the "ing’s."
Yet,
amidst all the fun, all the excitement, and all the adventure that a life
in this body could bring, there was one moment, one sharing with my family
that rose above all others.
I
have 14 nieces and nephews and I love each and all of them beyond my own
heart. One is not less nor more special than the next, but every once in a
while I happen upon a special moment with one or enter a special place
with another. Two weeks of fun in the sun, and there wasn’t a more
precious moment than the one minute I spent with little Megan.
Have
you ever seen a Michigan sky at night without any clouds to block your
vision? It’s intense...awe-inspiring...the kind of thing stars are made
of. As I held my seven-year old niece this night who was wrapped-up in a
white blanket on the end of our dock, a meteor shower began...what a
bonus! I had never quite seen meteors like these either...they seemed not
to be shooting, but igniting, as if a star had just exploded...I mean,
non-moving, huge flashes. The ones that were shooting seemed like planes
falling from the sky - even they exploded once or twice as they dropped.
But
again, this seemed as a tiny happening when compared to the shooting star
I was holding, who in her own little way, was about to explode with a
series of thought-provoking questions that only the innocents of a child
could answer.
In
the softest of voices she asked, "Uncle Tim, how many stars are
there?"
My
heart kinda fluttered. It’s not that I didn’t know how to answer this
one, but rather,I didn’t know what to do. Innocents in a child sooner
than later, always gives way to the ego and its ideal of many and
separation. Do I throw a fixing wrench in this little precious brain
that’s just beginning to wind along with the World? Although, not enough
memory and belief has yet entered her mind to make it hurt, it certainly
will confuse her, I thought. In honesty, I was probably more concerned
with what her parents and my sister would think of my sanity when she
passed on the answer.
My
thoughts were interrupted by an even gentler, but longer voice this time,
"U-n-c-l-e T-i-m, how many stars are there??????"
It
didn’t seem by the softness of her voice that her intellect was asking,
but rather her heart. And so that’s where I went also. A simple question
deserves a simple answer, right?
So
as my eyes looked up with her eyes at over a billion stars above us, I
whispered back, "One."
I
thought she’d laugh really with no real need for me to explain, but
instead, her heart asked further, "but how can there be only one when
I see so many?" Her voice was so innocent...so gentle.
Uncle
Tim: "Because you’re seeing with your eyes, little Megan"
Megan:
"What do you mean, Uncle Tim?"
(I paused with
"A sigh," - how do you tell a seven year old about these
things?)
Uncle
Tim: "Do you remember how many waves there were out there in the boat
today, Meggie?
Megan:
"lots."
Uncle
Tim: "And how many are there now?"
Megan:
"none." (The lake was as calm as glass. Everyone on this BB, as
well as the Ishayas know where I’m going with this one - default
mode...nothing new here.)
Uncle
Tim: "Actually ONE calm wave Megan, but how can that be...so many
waves one minute, and then a minute later - only one? It’s not just the
wind, but how you choose to see...Here, close your eyes Megan, and I’ll
close mine with you."
Uncle
Tim: "Megan, do you remember last Christmas and how many strands you
tied together for the lights on your tree?"
Megan:
"Three or Four."
Uncle
Tim: And when you plugged them in altogether...how many?
Megan:
"One big one."
Uncle
Tim: Right. Megan, someone once said that knowing (faith)is the assurance
of that which is hoped for...so why do we hope for what we see?...meaning
that which is real is that which is unseen; or things you cannot see with
your body’s eyes, but with the eyes of your heart. Are your eyes still
closed Megan?"
Megan:
"Y-e-s."
Uncle
Tim: Mine too. What’s the very thing that you can’t see, that’s
running through the strands of your Christmas lights every year...that’s
what we want to see, that’s what is real, that’s the unseen...can you
name it?"
Megan:
"Electricity?"
Uncle
Tim: "Yeah. And though with your eyes you see many many bulbs Megan;
tell me with your heart how many electricities there are running through
the strand from bulb to bulb?"
Megan:
o-n-e
Uncle
Tim: "Great, you did it." (Man, was I happy, and off the hook)
"You saw with your heart instead of your eyes, I said. You saw what
is real about your Christmas lights, the unseen part about them. Turn off
the switch, the power, the source...and all goes away...lights out. Turn
it on, and they’re back again. The bulbs are many on your Christmas
Tree, but they are just empty receptacles; receivers that allows the
electricity to shine like a light. In the same way the sky tonight is the
Christmas Tree and the stars are the many bulbs; all connected in a
strand. These stars are like the bulbs in that they allow the one light to
shine."
"Now
open your eyes Megan. Do you see the stars...how many lights in them do
you see?" (hope upon hope, fingers crossing fingers. I did my best,
and the best I could. I didn’t know whether her eyes were separating
them again or piling them one upon another...she answered just as softly
as she had asked...)
Megan:
o—n—e
Uncle
Tim: ...("thank you" with a tear in my eye.)
Right
Meggie, and can you name that electricity and the one light that is
shining through that grouped-up star, Megan?
Megan:
"G-o-d?"
A
melted Uncle Tim:
"close
enough, Megan...and you’re part of that star."
Megan:
"I love you Uncle Tim."
Uncle
Tim: (Thank you Jaya.)
This beautiful story was
posted to the Ishaya's
Ascension Bulletin Board in August 1999 by Timothy
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