March 29, 2016 1:22 PM
I sat in the Wendy’s and watched the man. He had just raised a cup to his lips when he vanished. One moment he was there, and then he was gone.
He just disappeared.
His body sat there though, completely still, the cup motionless an inch from his mouth, his eyes bright and blue—focused on some inner vision that only he could see. Maybe he had found himself in a more pleasant place, on a planet where life was easier and the people more friendly. Kinder. More compassionate. More caring.
Wherever he had gone, he wasn’t here anymore.
A few minutes later he was back and in is body and the cup continued smoothly upward as if nothing had happened and he took a drink.
His face was tanned and deeply lined. His pants were stained from dirt and grass and he wore a garbage bag underneath his coat. To keep dry? To keep warm? I don’t know.
He was sitting inside the restaurant, right next to the door and every time someone would enter, he’d look up at them with those brilliant blue eyes, hoping for a little human contact, a little gesture, a little acknowledgement that he existed, but everyone, upon seeing his worn and dirty rags, would avert their eyes and hurry past him.
He smelled like English Leather and he had a half-eaten meal in front of him and the manager—a stern woman of about 50—would occasionally stand nearby and hover. He was safe though, as he hadn’t finished his food, and there was little the manager could do.
I looked down at my phone, at the notes I had made about my Little Dark Night, and I opened and I expanded and I rose and I walked over and I stood in His presence.
His eyes looked up and met mine and I felt that connection I feel when I look into another person’s Soul and I followed them down—deep down—down below all the coarser layers to where we are all the same—a vast sea of Love and Light—and I smiled at him and I felt Her Love and I passed him a few bills and nodded and went on my way.
The notes I had just read, the notes I had made to myself on the Lessons of the Little Dark Night, reminded me of who I am and what I was and what I may someday be. They reminded me of Her, of Us, of our connection and Truth, and they compelled me to act.
These are the words I had read just before rising and seeing a man who so desperately needed to be seen. These are the Lessons of the Little Dark Night:
- Do everything for LOVE—not for reward.
- Do only what you enjoy.
- Death holds no sway over you, but He reminds you to live true and with purpose.
- Below everything lies a vast Sea of Love and Light. Live from there.
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