Mene Mene Tekel Parsin: The writing on the wall

As I sauntered along the pavement earlier this morn, an implicit conviviality entered my soul from the creation around me. The sun tacitly bid me welcome, spreading the warmth of its auroral rays across the valley. The unadorned trees, though bereft of their natural verdure, seemed to gesture in satisfied salutation as if prompted by some ineffable joy. I would fain reply, if I knew the language of trees. A light mist meandered atop the surrounding hills, adding an almost ethereal sense to the land. And in this, the dawn of day, with creation unabated in its obeisance to the divine King, I found myself inadequately equipped to pay homage with such pristine alacrity as was all around. For I am daunted by the task of explicating to all within my sphere the awe-inspiring attributes of the only immortal being whose residual print remains peculiarly present within my despoiled design. As a philosopher, I would happily begin “making plain the image engraven in men’s bodies, the God of whom they are defaced and leaning monuments” if only the engraving were slightly clearer. (Thoreau, Walden)

Determination separated from its created purpose is a torturous device.

And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, ²⁷ that they should seek God, and perhaps feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, ²⁸ for

‘In him we live and move and have our being’ (Acts 17:26-28a)

Of Motivation

What so thoroughly drives the human heart to invest purpose in unfamiliar soil (metaphorically speaking, an unrealized and thus fantastical future conjoined with those socially pervasive—yet often imperceptible—extrinsic expectations)? Essentially, how can one expect to succeed in the furrowing of clay, the harnessing of irrigative waters, the sowing of seed and the reaping its produce if unacquainted with the ‘earth,’ the very source of its subsistence? I am drawing a parallel but one that I believe to be of pertinence and immense value insofar as I am destitute and in need.

As a general rule it might be alleged that individuals rarely desire that of which they are innately aware, and thus, seldom know what they actually desire. For example, I am acutely aware of my eyes given that they provide me with sight. I would not likely say that I desire sight since I believe that I have it. In truth, I take it for granted, and my actual desire for sight is nearly nullified by the awareness thereof. The degree to which I truly desire sight is perhaps only revealed once it has been taken away. Were it merely a matter of cognizance, I should consider all humankind capable of obtaining their deepest longings; however, sagacity demands far more. I doubt any temporal being capable of rendering desired results if constricted entirely to the limitations of his own labour; for, when did acumen ever accomplish a task that was not first built on some previously provided principle or immutable foundation?

Therein, I suggest, remains the fundamental veracity of life’s ultimate aim: devoting ourselves to that which is preeminently antecedent. The hope for our soul’s most paramount desire is inexorably woven—and I hope you’ll pardon the poetic device—into the fabric of our existence. So intimately infused in our making is this hope, that it casts a shadow upon every other quasi substantiated objective we follow. Sadly, because so few choose to ardently pursue, or even give credence to the costliness of its foundation, many consequently find the attainment of their authentic desires virtually elusive.  To be precise, we know not what we want but go on hoping for it anyway. Such a pitiable state is tantamount to a terminally ill patient poignantly wishing to live, having never tasted what it means to be alive.

Oh that I might be loosed from the fetters of fatalism and façade, to be freed in the wild, unbridled liberty of predestined determination, and there to find my Maker.

 

An Indeterminate State of Mind

 

Recent events in my existence have come and gone much as they presumably have done for all of God’s creatures: pain and joy, laughter and tears, work and play… many of the dichotomies that are part-and-parcel to the daily nomenclature of life. Notwithstanding a notice from my ephemeral source of employment and a disempowering touch of the belly bug, last week’s contents seemed to be somewhat insipid—perhaps the mists which lay heavy upon the valley are at the heart of my lackluster vision, or perchance, it is a restless propensity deep within me. I don’t know.

It is not that the true wonder and majestic nature of life is lost me, rather, that the circumstances in which I have found myself ‘feel’ less potent to evoke such ineffably grand insights (those to which the psalmist alludes: ‘they bring greater delight than drippings of honey, than even the sweetest nectar of the honeycomb’) as I would desire. Humankind has undoubtedly been created to partake in the resplendent riches made available to it ubiquitously; yet, how subtly the creepers and brambles encroach carrying the languor and burdensome cares of the terrene.

In the midst of what appears to be mundanity, I am often cognizant of the Creator’s inescapable goodness. I must confess, however, that I would much prefer to say: I am EVER aware of my maker’s goodness. As such, my thoughts and intentions are again being attracted to the ongoing horizon. The ‘path’ which for many serves as a metaphor is—and I hope that I do not exaggerate—for me, as integral as the air.  

“The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men, gang aft agley, an' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain for promis'd joy!” (Robert Burns) How many have tested the time honored axiom and found it to be true? Thankfully, though many plans are in a man’s heart, it is the Lord who reveals his path. What I say often reflects what I think I intend to do, and what I plan constantly goes awry. I am beset by the imprecations of a blighted past; the way in which to go frequently appears ambiguous, and I am uncertain about decisions, second guessing at nearly every turn. However, of this I am confident: My God will continue to lead.