I’m late with my blog. The last few days have been a hurly-burly of people, and at the end of it I’m wondering how/if I can bear the drop back into the deep pool of solitude that my life has largely become. Along the way I’ve had all kinds of ideas about the blog entry I wanted to write, but now that Im’ here I’m thinking just to feel my way into this sudden summer solitude and see what I find there.
I’m needing to learn to listen. It’s not about more, it’s about less. I am learning that I need just to open the door and let the Holy Spirit in to do its work. I’m coming deeper into the understanding that it’s not about what I do or say. It’s about releasing to the action of the Holy Spirit.
Because I have some communication skills and gifts, because I’m a good manager, because I never let go, because I have for so long not trusted the outcomes, I have been slow in learning this. When I let my mind go there I find it frightening and sad, I think because I have so often got it so wrong.
Last night I participated in a workshop supporting prophetic speech. I have met, and in a very limited context worked with, the woman who was offering it. I have felt intimidated by her and have not really understood why. Last night I got it. In her presence I feel like a big, essentially good, absolutely untrained dog. She carries a refinement of grace that I don’t even begin to aspire to. I have a huge noisy ego that barks and wags its tail and knocks things over.
In the third book of C.S. Lewis’ science fiction triology, “That Hideous Strength” e meet eldils. They are, approximately angels. They live on the “Field of Arbol”, which is the plane of the solar system. Their size and power and multi-dimensionality mean that when they dock into a terrestrial human situation the people experiencing it catch only the edge, feel themselves to be in the presence of something inconceivably vast and massive, feel the fabric of their reality bend under the weight of the eldil. I think I’m learning this a little. I think in some ways I have moved into the world of that book, or that, perhaps more accurately, the world that C.S. Lewis described there is an approximation of the one I’m living in now.
A wonderful and occasionally very challenging part of my past few days has been time spent with my son. He is intelligent, literate, fiercely argumentative, lethally Socratic, trapping me all over the place with innocent questions that turn into horrible logical snares. It’s a high-impact contact sport and over the years of our conversation I’ve had to become better at it.
This time around I think I came to the understanding that you can’t contain anything in language. It’s not a receptacle; it’s a conduit. What comes through it is in motion and won’t be held by logical analysis. You can use a net to catch fish in the river, but you can’t catch the river.
So, speaking of eldils, and of the Holy Spirit, I feel very unsure about using language. However, I sense something vast and utter leaning down. I can only deal with it for a very little, but when I just open the door, things seem to be happening.