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It’s happening again—splotches of scarlet shrubs adding zest to November’s lethargy, slowly morphing into winter’s stillness. But do stop at the next burning bush or spindle tree that you pass. Note the reddest purple fruit beneath finely toothed leaves, no longer green, upon branches flaring with corky wings. After a few days, note the red mantle encircling the bush.

Such a burning bush recalls the ancient story of Moses as narrated in the Hebrew book of Exodus. It was an ordinary day when Moses set out with the sheep of his father-in law, Jethro, and headed toward the wilderness near Mount Horeb—an ordinary day that would stun Moses to the core. In the distance, he noted a living shrub enlivened by flames. Terrified, he moved closer. From the heart of the bush resounded the words: “Moses! Moses!…Take of your shoes. Come no nearer, for the place on which you stand is holy ground. I am the God of your father Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” Moses covered his face, afraid to look at God.

More words followed from the burning bush: the revelation of God’s name empowering Moses to free the oppressed Israelites from Egypt’s Pharaoh, and the strategies necessary for this daunting task. With Moses’s reluctant acceptance, the living shrub became ordinary again, but he was changed. And we know the rest of the story.

As you move into your next ordinary day, be on the lookout for a “burning bush.” It could change your life!

Be not as the British Pre-Raphaelite Christina Rossetti described at the end of one of her poems, “the dull-witted eating blackberries seated around a burning bush.

At 4:30 A. M., I awoke with these depth-dreams:

There are no radios anymore. Instead, on everyone’s wrist is a digital device with a screen, programmed by those in power. No one needs to know anything else. However, the material is frequently modified resulting in generalized confusion.

I’m horrified, exhausted as I watch armed camps fighting each other: one is good; the other, evil. No one knows the outcome but the destruction is cataclysmic.

Both dreams come from the collective unconscious of the psyche, a discovery made by the Swiss psychiatrist, Carl G. Jung in the early twentieth century. Content from this depth has universal implications, differing from those found in the personal unconscious in which recognizable aspects drawn from daily living are pieced together in dreams.

The first dream has an Orwellian ambiance around it and suggests the ultimate of mind control, already foisted upon the global population for decades. Even now, it’s hard to get a clear sense of the news, shredded and Scotch-taped to larger stories, later reported by tieless newsreaders and those wearing shrink-wrapped dresses. It’s all about titillation, distraction, while sucking spirit dry.

The second dream about the war suggests the continuing deadly conflict, here on earth, between the Archangel Michael and the damned Lucifer as found in the compilations of the prophet Enoch, an ancient Hebrew apocalyptic text, Book One dating to 4 BCE.  In my lifetime, World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Bosnia, Rwanda, and Afghanistan reveal the flip side of this angelic deadly conflict; it continues with al-Qaeda and the war of Terrorism. In the dream, the outcome is uncertain.

Only the mystical dimensions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam offer a response to such evil: compassion, per the research of Karen Armstrong, scholar.

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