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The timbered great door stands ajar. Silence infiltrates the light brilliancing the hardwood floor with its intrusion into darkness: So unexpected, so frightening, an irritant to eyes accustomed to living within the grip of shadows.

No one seems around.

The urge to explore this new realm discomforts. A response is called for, despite fears similar to nail guns securing tiles to tar-papered roofs—It’s safer to remain with the familiar, however outworn—That’s what everyone says. Yet, the light persists, the light beckons, the light warms. 

How many times have I stood upon such a threshold? Let go of opportunities for growth? Settled for less rather than embracing the necessary sacrifice to forge ahead? For too many years have I chosen the half-light, but no more. since living with terminal illness. Each morning’s challenge is to approach the opened door through study of my dreams, blogging, and listening, despite chronic fatigue and hourglass-like wasting of physical and mental faculties.

The paradox of this diminishment opens me to the teaching of Jesus of Nazareth, the opened door to the fulness of Light.  “Whoever enters through me shall be saved,” He said. This, alone, satisfies, even now as I await full admittance.

At 3:30 A. M., I awoke with this affirming dream:

Inside a mirrored practice room, I watch a large number of black girls, ranging in age from two to about thirteen years old, wearing black leotards and tights, and working with their teachers. A gentle spirit pervades the room.

This harmonious glimpse into my psyche affirms present self-care practices as I continue moving through my end time. The mirrored practice room suggests a significant venue for learning, with multiple mirrors reflecting mistakes for correction, as well as mastery of new routines for affirmation. I liken this venue to the feedback I receive from my circle of helpers attentive to my needs as my functioning diminishes, ever so slowly.

The dream’s black girls, symbolic of youthfulness, focus, and commitment speak to my willingness to learn each day’s limits and to participate in whatever evolves, through the practice of the Twelve Steps of Chronic Pain Anonymous. The mastery of new skills, in the face of diminishment, speak to my reliance upon Higher Power, the Master Teacher.  

The influence of the gentle spirit speaks to this Presence, continually at work in my psyche. Too long have I lived in the half-light of Life. With my days limited, I seek new willingness to spirit my steps in accord with cues streaming from my psyche; this requires deep listening and obedience of the heart.

At 3:30 A.M., I awoke with this peaceful dream:

I’m working in a large city with countless others, all in a spirit of harmony and peace. Nowhere is there ill will or discord.

What is unusual about this dream is that it continued throughout the night. I’m glad to have receive it.

In robust health, I’m working, totally involved, energized by multiple projects that enlarge my knowledge of life. I’m delighted to be participating and never tire. Countless others surround me from whom I also learn; and they, from me.

The large city suggests the realm of Twelve Step Recovery, where a minority engage in conscious living that involves selfless care for one another, even through chronic pain and illness unto death. Care for the environment also flows from this awareness of the living God within and in our midst, evidenced by the spirit of harmony and peace. Key to this on-going recovery are the practice of faith, emotional honesty, and willingness.

Another association with the large city is St. Augustine’s philosophic treatise City of God (413-466 CE) in which the believers bolster themselves from malicious attacks by the unbelievers of the Earthly City, a conflict that will continue until the end of time.

In view of our present global conflagration, good versus evil, it’s imperative not to lose hope. Another Power is at work who has brought others through similar perils. Lean into It and do the next right thing, with grace. It’s working out …

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